How I Survive My Short-Distance Relationship

My boyfriend Matt and I have been living together in our 300 sq. ft. studio apartment in the Upper East Side for three months, and I am done. No really—I’m done with all of it. I’m done with work, showering, friends, and the outside world. I’m staying put here in this tiny, stuffy space, with just the two of us. I deserve this intense happiness.
I admit I was surprised by Matt’s enthusiasm for our big step. Before that, we’d spent three long weeks as a couple trying to make it work in spite of huge odds, like having to switch trains once on the way to one another’s apartments and choosing where to eat all of our meals. Thankfully, we decided to move in together.
But you have to be ready to look down at your interlocked limbs on the couch, six hours into your House of Cards marathon, and be at peace with not knowing which grey sweatpanted leg is yours and which is his. You have to want to wake up with someone else breathing into your mouth. You have to enjoy the conversations that happen when you only speak in a series of noises and coded inside jokes that no one else will ever hear or understand and will be absolutely meaningless when you later break up (which we never will!). You have to love the way the back of his throat clicks when he yawns really big and that black crud from his socks that just stays between his toes, no matter what. Aw, Matt’s sock crud.
Bottom line: no one told me how rewarding being this close to someone could be. Matt has really surprised and inspired me. He wore my shirt by accident for 15 minutes the other day, and when we noticed, we both laughed for a long time until we realized our laughter was the same tone, pitch, and length. Isn’t that adorable? We totally laugh the exact same way now!

And even when things get a little tense, like when we both reach for soap in the shower at the same time, when our teeth clack together while we’re sharing toast, or when I accidentally cut him when I’m shaving his face, I know we’ll be okay because we never, ever need to be apart ever again for any reason. Did you read that article about the woman in Denmark who slept with her husband’s dead body for a year? I used to think that was gross, but now I realize it’s literally your only option when you’re this deeply in something with someone else.
Take last week for example—it really tested our resolve. Matt and I both had colds, so we slept with two fingers of space between us in our double bed. I kept waking up in the middle of the night in a panic and reaching over to make sure Matt was still there. He was, of course. He always is, and always will be. I love my little Turtle Tater—sorry, that’s a joke of ours—I love him so much. I just want to put a pillow on his face and press down forever.