I never thought when I started writing about my relationship that I would make it to six months. This isn’t saying that I felt my relationship was doomed from the start, but I figured I would have fucked it up by now.
Growing up as an only child was amazing. I loved not having someone to share things with. But now there are a few minor qualities I never really had to learn until I got into a relationship: to compromise.
My boyfriend and I have been together for a full 90 days, and in most scenarios when you are trying to get used to or adjust to something, many experts say 90 days is all it takes.
I thought the first month was going to be the hardest because it was something so different and new, but as it turns out, maintaining a relationship is hard work and it doesn’t stop after 30 days.
Growing up as an only child was amazing. I loved not having someone to share things with. But now there are a few minor qualities I never really had to learn until I got into a relationship: to compromise.
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I can’t believe that summer is almost over. As I sit here typing this article in my drafty and fluorescent-lit office, I can’t stop thinking about all of the trips I wanted to take, beaches I wanted to visit, and meals I wanted to eat.
While I may have eaten 98% of my “Food Wish List”, I still had yet to leave New York and I didn’t even come close to visiting a beach – unless you count the patch of sand in Staten Island they call the beach, which I don’t. As far as summers were concerned, I was pretty unlucky this year.
But that’s not to say I didn’t have fun! Because I did! I got to leave work at 3pm on Fridays twice, I went to the Taylor Swift 1989 World Tour, and I even visited the Bronx Zoo for the first time. While my friends were relaxing at their lake houses, traveling through Europe, and posing for pictures in the Hamptons, I pretty much stayed put.
That is, until this past weekend when my boyfriend and I took a road trip to the one and only Atlantic City!!!
Did your eyes just roll? Because I could feel your eyes rolling…
Okay, I know Atlantic City is not technically “getting away” or “going on vacation” or even “clean” but to me, it still counts! When I learned my best friend was having her bachelorette party in AC, I knew that I wanted to go and surprise her and invited my boyfriend to come along so we could also have a weekend away.
The events at this weekend away were pretty essential to me in two ways: One, he was going to meet my best friend – whose opinion means more to me than the ranch dressing Outback serves with their cheese fires – and two, we would be in the car together for three hours, hoping not to drive each other crazy. Pun intended.
Our trip started on Friday at 3 (see, I told you I got to leave work early) and because of traffic and assholes, we didn’t get to AC until 8pm. Surprisingly enough, we didn’t want to claw each others eyes out after being stuck in the car together for that much time. When we finally arrived at our hotel, we ran up to the room, changed, and headed downstairs to meet up with the group and surprise my friend.
Once we were all together, we decided to go to the Pool Party for some drinks and dancing. Now, if any of you know me you know that the last place I belong at is a Pool Party in Atlantic City. Everyone was wasted, dressed to the nines, and every song that came on was by a band called Skrillex. But, in the end, it was one of the funniest nights of my life. The best part of the evening, well besides dancing with a group of black girls in the shallow end of the pool to a T Pain song, was looking over and seeing my boyfriend and best friend, sitting down, talking and getting to know one another. There are a few moments in life that I wish I could frame and remember forever. This was one of them.
The next day we hung out at the pool, where people were still dressed up and dub step was still blasting out of the speakers. After five mojitos and a plate of nachos, we got dressed to go to dinner and separate from the group for a date nigh alone. It was so nice to be walking down the boardwalk, away from the city, with my boyfriend. It was the perfect way to end a fantastic weekend and to celebrate seven amazing months together.
Even though I did not win any money at blackjack and those pool nachos gave me diarrhea, I have to say that this weekend made me realize just how unbelievably lucky I am.
LUCKY NUMBER SEVEN
WHAT I'VE LEARNED FROM BEING IN A RELATIONSHIP FOR SEVEN MONTHS
I have never said, “I love you” to someone that wasn’t a family member, friend, or Red Lobster employee. It’s not that I was afraid to; it’s just that I never really felt that way for someone.
On January 8th, I went on what seems like my thirtieth Tinder date. Like the preceding 29 other dates, we met up at a bar for a few quick drinks during happy hour.