My best friend can tell you precisely how many steps it is from the door of her condo to the door of her soulmate’s place. (It’s less than 100.) While they’re together at night, they see no reason to change things during the day, even after several years of companionship.
Another friend is marrying the love of her life soon. Their apartments are across the hall from each other. After the wedding, they plan to keep both apartments.
Now, both of these women have been freelance writers for decades. They’re disciplined in the way they approach work, and I understand that this continued private space gives them a work environment that’s separate from their home environment. I understand that’s important.
While I was going through bankruptcy for three-plus years, I cultivated that same discipline. I had to; I lived on what I could make as a freelance editor at that time. I also was separated (and eventually, divorced) from my husband of twenty-plus years by then. Now, three years later, separation isn’t what I’m looking for.
Call it the romantic in me, but my dream world involves living smack dab together, today and in retirement. He’d come and give me a neck rub every so often while I was writing; I’d give him a hug or kiss on top of the head while he was doing what he was doing, whether it was working on a car or putting in a new shower stall or whatever his task of the day was.
Fantasyland? Maybe. But it’s mine, and I’m sticking to it until I find the person who wants to live there with me–just steps apart.
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