The significance of compromise

As I’ve already mentioned a few times in various posts, Blaine, who is now my husband, and I are in the process of getting settled in our new home. Things are certainly better now than they were about a week ago; all of our possessions are now in the home, so it is a matter of figuring out where to place them.

Blaine and I have been together for about eight-and-a-half years now, and we are just now living together in the same space. Let that one sink in.

He and I were very aware that the first little while spent living together wouldn’t necessarily be easy. We were told by numerous couples to expect fights, challenges, frustration and negotiation, and so far, we have both experienced all of these things and more. But, we are trying our best, and something that has proved to be of utmost significance in the context of living with Blaine is compromise.

Blaine isn’t exactly a tidy person, whereas I am. I was also raised by my Dutch mother, meaning my standards of what constitutes as clean are tremendously higher than what Blaine may perceive to be clean. I’m trying my hardest to be as patient as possible with Blaine, because as much as I would love to throttle him at times, I realize he may not even understand why he is annoying me in what he is doing.

I should probably stipulate that patience has been something I’m having to exhibit more than ever before.

Have we fought? Yes. Has a murder been committed? Not as of yet, so I think we are doing okay in the grand scheme of things.

Blaine and I have already made memories in our home, and while not all of them are necessarily pleasant ones, they’re certainly ones to remember ten years from now when we can look back and laugh at the shit we fought over upon first living together.

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