Modern Love

I just read last Sunday's Modern Love column in the New York Times, and not only was it really good, I could relate. Probably a lot of people can, since it's about a woman who feels the need to keep a "single girl's starter kit" - the things she'd need to start over -  in a storage unit even after she moves in with her boyfriend of seven years. Because what if things don't work out?

Reading it reminded me of when I moved in with my boyfriend when I was 29. I really wanted it to work out, but in reality, I'd only felt sure of us for the two weeks prior to moving in. In other words, I was insane. But I thought moving in would solve some of the problems we had. It'll surprise no one that things only go worse. It was a rocky, stressful living situation, though I held out hope that we would figure out how to want what the other could give.

But hope is one thing, and certainty another, so all the extraneous stuff from my bachelorette pad was being stored in his basement. For months after I moved in we talked about having a tag sale to get rid of the dishes, silverware, lamps, etc, but neither of us ever pushed it through. Maybe he was as unsure as I was. And move out I did, after 10 months and a lot of misery.

Fast forward six years to me sitting outside my apartment, selling off all my worldly possessions. I felt no pain, no worry. I was about to move in with my fiance and I was thrilled with life. I had a few things that were nicer than his, but mostly his stuff was better, and I was psyched to make a couple of bucks on the stuff I didn't need anymore. My jeans bulged with my roll of one dollar bills, plus a fifty for the futon I'd had since grad school.

I had everything there a person would need for a new start, and in fact a woman in just such a situation showed up early on the first day of our sale. From the little she said, I got the feeling she'd left a bad relationship with pretty much just the shirt on her back. She needed everything from silverware to pots to a microwave, and I was happy to give her anything she wanted for practically nothing. My husband even tossed some things in her car that I'm pretty sure she didn't want.

I had no doubts about what I was doing, no pit of doom in my stomach to pretend away. I had a ring on my finger and was moving in with a guy I'd been sure of within the first couple of months.

But there's also this. My grandmother told my mother she should always have her own bank account, even when married. That was a pretty modern thing to say in the sixties, but my mother heeded the advice and passed it on to me. Mostly my husband and I have our own accounts so we can do what we want without having to explain every purchase. But having my own money also makes me feel safe and ready for whatever might happen. Maybe this is a feature of women who are out of their twenties when they get married. I don't expect to need that money for starting over, but if I did, at least I know I'd have more than the shirt on my back.