I want Paul to move out of his parents’ house–bad. I realized last night that I might want him to do it more than he actually wants to do it himself, especially considering he’s done basically nothing to try to move out, and then I realized that if that’s the case, we’ve got a major problem here. Like, potential deal-breaker level of problem.
So I used the doomsday “we need to talk” line and he opted for immediately over the phone, and I basically said–kind of cliched as it is–that I think we’re in very different places in our individual lives right now and if moving out of his parents’ house isn’t something he’s ready for, we should take a break until he is.
So, we’re on break, right? I’m actually not sure. I guess I need to figure that out pretty soon. I’m giving it a week.
The issue isn’t just him living at home–it’s the crux of a fair number of issues we’ve had in that he just fails to act or take initiative or responsibility. It’s that he’ll complain about a fixable problem without trying to fix it. It’s that he’ll complain about needing his own space and needing to move out without so much as looking for apartments, let alone asking about availability or tours.
For me, this leads into a whole mess of problems. I value independence, and I’ve been living alone and completely supporting myself for almost two years now (which is fucking weird, by the way). We’ve had some issues in the somewhat recent past with me feeling like we’re kind of in two separate worlds, even as a couple–at my apartment or even with my friends and family or on our own pretty much anywhere, we’re adults. It’s Adult World. When we’re at his parents or with his family, we’re in Child World.
Everything comes down to this–my parents raised me to prepare me for adulthood and to take care of myself. Hell, when you’ve got a parent deployed through most of year teens, you grow up pretty fast, and I realize that probably plays into all of this. But Paul’s parents–especially his mom–have raised an adult child. And honestly, that might work for a little while, especially living at home, but it starts to fall apart when relationships come into play and one half of a couple is ready to grow up and the other half needs pushed and babied and coddled through life decisions.
Interestingly, this wasn’t the case when he was in college. In fact, when he was in State College, he was quite independent and in charge and capable, and things would’ve been damn near perfect if not for that pesky long-distance thing. I realize I pin a lot on his mom, but seriously, if someone’s treated like a child at home, they’re gonna act like a child.
Until, of course, their girlfriend tells them she’s walking unless he takes action for once.
I do have to give him credit. In under 24 hours from being told I thought a break was best–because let’s be honest, this is not what I fucking want–he left messages at two apartments and contacted a therapist. Now, the apartments don’t have openings, and this is what’s complicating things so much. Technically, I told him the break would be off if he made an effort, and he has. He even looked up places with pools tonight because he knows I’d love that. And I can’t hold it against him if places are full because first and foremost, that’s about as big a dick move as there is in this situation, and it’s out of his control. But on the other hand, I’m afraid if I say, “Well, you tried, break’s off!” I’ll just end up in this exact same situation in a couple months. At least he’s made an effort to find something, although I wish it didn’t have to come to this for that to happen.
Now, of course, this isn’t as simple as me getting what I want, and it’s not even about that. The catch is I don’t want him doing something he doesn’t want to do and isn’t ready for, and I don’t want him doing it because it’s what I want and it’s his best chance of staying together right now. I did make it pretty clear that if that’s the case, he’s got to let me know because if that’s the case, we’re better off breaking up entirely because there’s no future in a serious, long-term relationship where one party isn’t even ready to grow up.
And I can only take so much of the little perks that come with having a boyfriend who still lives at home–the biggest, most obvious one being that since the solution to keeping the peace between me and his mother has been for us to interact as little as possible, I don’t go over to his house and he’s stuck being the one to come to my place almost always. It’s not fair to him, but I also can’t keep spending time with a toxic woman. Which brings me to the rest of it–him living at home in a small house with five siblings means we have zero privacy, and I don’t even mean sexually. If we want to just sit and talk and be alone, we either have to wait for everyone to have plans, sneak off, or outright tell everyone to leave us alone, especially considering the only options for sneaking off are basically outside, which depends on whether, or in his room, which he shares and his mother would raise hell over anyway. She already assumes any time spent alone in the house is used for fucking.
On the bright side, when he finally does move out, I will christen the apartment by being very drunk, very naked, and possibly crying.