How Long Should You Date Before You Move In Together?
Right, I’m going to get right to the heart of the matter. If you’re in a relationship, how long were you dating / in a relationship with your significant other before you started talking about moving in together? If you’re not in a relationship, feel free to answer the same questions with your thoughts and opinions. I’m trying to get a good gauge for this, but the answers seem to be so different from everyone I ask.
My sister and her fiancee have been together for more years than I can remember, and they were dating for about a year and a half before they moved in together … with my mother, I must add. They still live there [rent-free]. But anyway, that’s another moan for another day.
My aunt, on the other hand, was only dating her fella for about six months before things started seriously happening. They were engaged and moving in together not long after I learned about their relationship. I would say it was definitely within a year.
I’ve taken both approaches to the whole moving-in dilemma. I’ve waited months and months, years in some cases, and in others I’ve barely waited at all. They’ve all gone horrifically wrong. I’ve always ended up breaking up from them – those men. I’ve always found myself starting again, all over again, for what feels like the millionth time.
I knew Big Love for just five months before I made the life-altering decision to move to the other side of the world with him. We were together for two years. I knew my Hubby for just six months before we got engaged, and we were married and moved to another country within the year too. We lasted for six years. Both relationships went wrong. But then again, so did my relationship with Jock. We were together for almost two years, never moved in together, yet still fell apart.
So … where’s that middle ground?
How long should you date before moving in together?
The reason I ask this is because I have been dating Bear for just three months yet the topic of us living together seems to come up far more often than I’m comfortable with. I’m in the process of trying to find somewhere else to live because my current situation is virtually unbearable, and so is Bear …
But we’ve been together for just three months so it makes absolutely zero sense whatsoever for us to move in together. Well, except for the fact that rent would be cheaper, and life would get a whole load easier only having to pay one load of bills instead of two. The money situation is what keeps us apart. November was a really tough month for me, with loads of non-paying clients, and the same could be said for him too. If it weren’t for the fact we were both skint, we probably would have spent every possible hour together.
We’ve spent huge chunks of time together rather than dating the traditional way. Our first date was a day-long jolly around London, and every time we’ve seen each other since then has been for a number of days. He spent two and then three days at mine, and then I spent five days at his. I’m currently getting myself comfy for the eighth night in a row this time around at his. We’ve basically lived together for the last week, and it’s been brilliant. It hasn’t been hard work. It hasn’t been difficult. It hasn’t been pretentious, or fake, or bullshit. It’s been real. I’ve been pissed off because he left his pants next to the laundry rather than in it, and he’s been pissed off because I’m having a crazy five minutes and just won’t shut the fuck up. He’s seen me first thing in the morning with my crazy bed-hair and fire-breathing morning breath, and he’s seen me sprawled across his couch, legs spread, everything showing and nothing giving a f***. We’ve laughed so hard I had an actual dribble of pee running down my leg, and we’ve had mini arguments too. Not real ones, just ones where he gets a little paranoid that he’s not enough for me, and I get pissed off with the constant need to reassure him. But even then it’s not that tough. I don’t actually mind the constant reassurance. I know he has mental health issues, and I embrace them. I knew my relationship with him would have certain difficulties right from the beginning. I’ve come across nothing so far that would make me even consider turning and running in the other direction. I can really do this.
But even still, after spending a week together, I still find myself dreading going to bed tonight because it means I’ll be waking up to go home soon. That breaks my heart a little. I’ve never wanted to spend time with anyone quite as much as I really want to spend time with this man. I don’t want to go home. If it weren’t for my cat, and the fact that I’m starting to get bored of wearing the same three sets of clothes, I probably wouldn’t even go home at all. I can work around him, sleep around him, be around him … his son too. His 14 year old soon. Shouldn’t this be so much more difficult than it is?
I wish he lived closer. It’s a 2.5 / 3 hour journey from my house to his, and it seems to be getting longer with every trip too. I can never sit down on the train, my anxiety goes through the roof, and I have the hardest time with the journey. So much so I’ve actually booked some driving lessons for after the New Year. I can’t bear the thought of getting behind the wheel of a car, but I’d rather learn how to drive than keep needing to rely on the always-unreliable train service.
I’m not deluded. Before you say that, I know that three months isn’t enough time to be with someone before you move in with them, and I’m not considering it. But … there’s something very lovely about the thought of waking up next to him every day. Of making him a cup of coffee when he texts me to say he’s on his way home from work, or getting a hot chocolate ready for when his son walks through the door after school. Of prancing around the house in my underwear and making him laugh, and of picking up a string of laundry both father and son seem to leave in their wake. I long for this. I long to be a part of this.
How long do I need to wait?
Thanks so much for reading my blog today! 🖤
Read all about Bear, the full chapter, right here.
If you’re in the market for something a lil’ spicier, why not check out one of my smutty favourites:
It’s a difficult one. I’ve only ever lived with one man – my ex husband. He proposed to me after 2.5 years and we were married 1.5 years later. We were very young though.
Since my divorce my longest relationship has lasted 2 years. I’ve never even considered moving in with anyone because of my kids. After 14 years of not living with a man it’s going to take someone pretty special to break that!
I guess there’s no right or wrong you have to go with your gut and do what’s best for you.
Good luck!
Wow, there really are no right and wrong rules here! Maybe we should reevaluate the situation after Christmas and see where we stand? I just don’t want to sign a year long lease or whatever if we’re going to end up taking the plunge and moving in together anyway after a few months. I can see that happening. I’m trying to be romantic, logical, and practical all at once and I can’t!
Thanks for your comment xo