It’s a year today since my husband moved out of our marital home. In some ways it’s flown by, in others, I feel like I’ve been living in the house we once shared on my own for an eternity.
So I thought I’d some up the pros of living alone vs those of living with your spouse/partner.
Pros of cohabiting:
- You share the housework.
- Someone makes cups of tea for you.
- Changing the bed sheets. This is an utterly shit task to wrangle with metres of material on your own, and should never be a one person undertaking.
- If you can’t be arsed to clean, you can delegate.
- You can have sex whenever you want.
- You can make they will put out the bins when it’s pouring with rain.
- There’s always another pair of hands to help you do a zip up/bracelet clasp. Essentially living alone makes some things unwearable.
- If you’re really nice/demanding they will probably go and get you chocolate.
- Cooking for two/they will cook. Also equates to eating healthier. I barely cook on my own. Toast anyone?
- There’s a second pair of hands to help put shit together that’s unnecessarily large or complicated. IKEA FLAT PACK, I’m looking at you.
- You have probably chosen your partner on their ability to save you from spiders. You’re now on your own and September becomes a living fucking nightmare.
- You share responsibility for paying bills/doing food shopping. If you haven’t paid someone on your own, you only have yourself to blame. Shit.
Pros of living alone:
- There’s significantly less housework to do; I put my laundry in the basket, don’t put things to be washed after merely trying them on or use every utensil when cooking etc. GOODBYE RANDOM SOCKS EVERYWHERE.
- Your tea will always be brewed to your exact specifications. No more showing it the bag.
- The house has never been cleaner. Sock fluff is a thing of the past.
- You can have sex with whomever you want, whenever you want.
- The TV is solely yours and you don’t have to fight over scheduling. Goodbye soccer Saturday (and football rage).
- If you only have one bathroom, you can take as long as you want, no one will hurry you. Equally you won’t have to scream bloody murder because it’s been occupied whilst someone checks their Twitter feed on the loo for 25 minutes. BREATH, BREATH we’re going to be late AGAIN.
- You can go to bed whenever the fuck you want, safe in the knowledge you won’t disturb anyone, have to contend with someone already snoring, or be disturbed later. Zzzzzzz.
- All the WARDROBE SPACE.
- No more power struggle for control of the duvet or temperature of the bed. I will have a hot water bottle in peace and no longer be blasted with a fan in the depths of winter.
- Only Netflix is judging you for STILL watching, in your pants, whilst eating Nutella, out of the jar. In your pants.
- You can be ALL THE SELFISH YOU WANT.