I’m planning on moving in with my boyfriend in a matter of weeks, it seems. Going from my off-campus student housing (non-student here) to an actual house is quite the jump — one which would never have happened on my own, anyhow.
Trite is my apartment complex, nestled at a certain distance from any reliable public transportation (excluding the bus and its confusing route system). I get great pleasure from abandoning what’s rather a destitute place to live as a former student. Something about it makes me feel as though I would be chained to it for years, hopping between dead-end jobs whilst college-aged kids cycle in and out of the other two rooms. Though, it is mine. My name isn’t exactly on the lease (who the fuck makes three times the rent, in Charlotte of all places) but I still pay for it. There’s a certain level of mobility I have being so close to the UNCC campus, being a vehicle-less faggot and all with a pair of Converse to carry me along the narrow sidewalks. I’ll be forfeiting a bit of sidewalk pleasuredom, alone time, and space for what should be a more comfortable life.
What does this mean for me? How constrained will I feel, confined to a bedroom that can be breached by my boyfriend at any time? I’ve been putting things together as of late, trying to organize certain thoughts about where/who I want to be. I tried to tell my boyfriend (though we were both plastered when I broached the subject) about my gender journey and he hasn’t said much since. It’s not his responsibility to bring it up, I get that, but I do worry that I’ll feel a bit watched if I start donning more feminine attire, reading trans literature, and engage in any other self-revealing behaviors. So for now I’ll keep it between this blog and myself.
Is this how I should live, letting certain pursuits — be they academic, pleasureful, or personal—get put away for the sake of comfort? I’m not too sure. Retreating inwards to let bits of myself out, little by little, could be my strategy. I’m paying him; this little corner of the house will be “mine,” if I must reel back into my quarters for privacy. Let’s hope its sufficient for flourishing, which is what I care about.
