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lack of ambition. He was an artist,
yet he seemed content waiting tables
to earn rent money. I wondered if
he'd ever get beyond that. Ultimately,
it was my doubts about him, our
future as a couple and eventually as a
family, that were our undoing.
Our breakup was long and agoniz-
i0g. Dividing belongings, such as a
music collection, is brutal stuff (and
replacing the half you're missing can
be expensive). After the separation, I
vowed never to live with a lover
before marriage. I couldn't imagine
inflicting that pain on myself again.
But with the passing of time, I've
become sanguine, and today I
wouldn't rule it out. I realize now
that Malcolm and I learned things
about ourselves and our relationship
that we could not have just by dat-
ing.
Weathering the changes in a part-
ner's life is more intimate — and in
your face — when you're living
together. Arguments about where we
might eventually live, how we would
ever afford a family, and when and
where to get married seemed to have
more gravity because we did. And
when it became clear that things
were falling apart, we were forced to
face that head-on, since neither of us
had a place to retreat.
Living together isn't like being on
a marathon date; it's about integrat-
ing another person into the fabric of
your existence, about struggling over
issues of all manner and size —
whether sex once a week is enough,
whether a bedskirt is a necessary
accoutrement, how often to invite
your partner's annoying cousin to
dinner. It's about pining all day for a
hot soak and coming home to find
the tub filled with developer fluid
and dripping prints, and then listen-
ing patiently while your partner
describes how he got each shot. My
love for Malcolm and his artist's
imagination made me a more selfless
person than I had ever thought that I
could be.
To avoid living with someone
again simply because the last time it
didn't end in marriage would be like
deciding never to eat breakfast again
because one morning you burned the
toast. It would mean denying the
ways living with Malcolm changed
me.
In his book Too Far To Go, a col-
lection of short stories about the dis-
solution of a marriage, author John
Updike notes that "all things end
under heaven, and if temporality is
held to be invalidating, then nothing
real succeeds." I like to think I will
find real love, even if it means facing
a few endings along the way. ❑
— This article first appeared in
SWING, September 1997. Reprinted
with the permission of SWING maga-
zine. Copyright (c) 1997 by SWING
magazine.
11/14
1997
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