Cohabitating Conundrum

Mr. Wonderful and I are going to look at a house together. I think I might be having a mini heart attack. It's not that I don't want to live with this guy...someday. I do. It's just very difficult for me to really know when that day is. I met my ex-husband at 19. We bought our first house at 23. We got married at 24 and were together for nearly 18 years. I was 39 years old when I finally had some independence, freedom and alone time. And quite honestly, I've been thoroughly enjoying my last ten years of independence, freedom and alone time. Don't be mistaken, I love my boyfriend and I totally enjoy his company. He never grates on my nerves, we always have a blast and I'm certain we're in it for the long haul. So why am I hesitant about living together?

Sure there is this small issue of our decorating tastes that has been the brunt of many jokes. I am, shall we say, eclectic, vintage and worldly treasures in my decorating style. My beau is more contemporary, minimalistic and, well, masculine with regard to his decor. Since he is a dude, I guess that is a good thing. How do two people who have developed their personal styles for over forty years meld them together? When two people meet in their twenties, they generally both have crap they acquired from garage sales and grandma's basement. Milk crates and plywood make up shelves and blankets cover up the nasty sofa stains. Getting together means chucking all that and starting anew developing their tastes and style together. I've already been there and done that. I now have my own funky style that, quite frankly, I like! My boyfriend is the most easy-going fella there is, but I can tell he wouldn't pause for one second at tossing some of my nostalgic family heirlooms (yes, that is what I'm calling them) to the curb.

Once while browsing through an antique store, I spotted an amazing piece of furniture I could envision in a kitchen or pantry displaying some cool pottery from Portugal or Italy. At my excitement, Mr. W. just turned and walked away. I swear I detected a snicker. "What's wrong?" I demanded. "Are you laughing because there is no way in H-E-Double Hockey Sticks you can picture this in your house?" No reply.

Upon further discussion, I believe we've determined I own about two or three pieces that meet his approval.

Besides the decorating issue, which I'm pretty sure we could negotiate our way through, there is that alone time thing. I revel in coming home to my empty apartment, no noise, no questions, no demands. It is my oasis. I stay up late reading, writing, and puttering. I am the quintessential night owl. He is not.

Last weekend, we took a trip to Portland where I introduced him to some longtime friends of mine. Later one of them wrote "It sounds like he is as independent as you are--so that works."  She is right, we are both very independent, enjoy each other immensely, but also have our own interests and need for alone time.

Surely my concerns will get ironed out. Surely I won't lose "Independent George" in the process (and neither will he).  And surely when we are finally ready to take the plunge and we find the perfect home, I'll be 100% ready. Surely.