About five years ago, I started dating this wonderful guy. We met at a party, and have been inseparable since. Right after the party, we started texting each other, barely paying attention to the world around us. I wasn’t prepared for the kind of promises and commitment a serious relationship holds back then, and that’s why he came as a pleasant surprise. He made me want to do all sorts of things I didn’t know my emotionally-stunted brain and heart were capable of.
So, about two months into the relationship, we sat down and figured out how things had gotten serious so soon, why we needed to be together more often, and why moving in together made the most sense. While the thought seemed crazy to all the relationship veterans I was surrounded by–including my best friend who was very sceptical–it seemed just about right to me and my partner. That’s when the hard part began…
My partner’s parents are forward thinking, and were absolutely okay with him making decisions on his own. Whereas I come from a conservative family where living together is considered sinful and against the religion my parents practise. That’s why, I was not prepared for the advice my dad gave me when I broke the news. Even though my intentions were absolutely clear–I was moving in with him whether or not they liked it–my resolve was as shaky as ever. I was nervous, my palms were sweaty, and I couldn’t find the right words to convey what I felt about my partner.
As I fumbled in front of my parents, my dad came and sat by my side. He put his arms around my shoulder and told me he was proud of me, and knew I wouldn’t do anything that would make him feel ashamed of being my father. “I want to move in with my boyfriend,” I blurted out as tears streamed down my face. All the nervousness I had bundled in suddenly poured out in one impulsive admission. I could’ve explained how we reached the decision, why I wanted to do what I wanted to do, and how it could help us understand each other better. But instead, I came across as a hasty, emotional fool. It didn’t help that I was now sobbing like a baby.
The silence that followed wanted me to run away–run away so that I might never have to face my parents again. But after what felt like a century, my dad finally spoke up. His demeanour was calm, his voice was level, and calculated advice followed: “You’re an adult and we’ve raised you to make independent decisions. As much as I would hate for you to move away from us, I know I will have to let you go some day. I just want you to make sure the guy you’re seeing won’t hurt you. That he will respect you; and that you agreeing to move in with him won’t allow him to see you in any other way except that you’re an intelligent girl with her head on her shoulders.”
Those words still come back to me today. It helped me make one of the most important decisions of my life knowing that I had my dad backing me. We moved in two months after I had that talk with my parents. In fact, my dad even helped us buy some furniture recently–even though my mom still thinks I should get married, and focus on all the things society deems right. Dad is just happy that I am happy, and that I am able to live as an adult and run a house on my own. Today, I am happily living in with my boyfriend and I have no regrets. Oddly enough, I have my dad to thank for that.
