Shacking Up (part 2)

I have this friend from folkeskole whom I still see every once in a while. Let’s call her Nevada. A few months ago she told me about a boy who was pursuing her. She didn’t know what to do. I offered the best advice I could give, but let’s face it, I know zilch about the subject. So I wasn’t able to help much, and we didn’t really talk about him after that.

She went off on vacation, I went off on vacation, stuff happened. I didn’t see her for two months. We finally met again just over a week ago, and she told me that she and this boy were living together.

Well. I was somewhat taken aback. I had only just heard about Michigan a few days previous, but I admit she barely came to mind – I only recalled her long enough to dismiss her again, as she chose a teacher and Nevada had chosen a boy her age. (Actually, he’s two years younger.) I figured the two cases were too different not to be considered separately.

I sat quietly and let her talk, trying not to look judgmental. I didn’t feel judgmental, just rather surprised and curious as to how I was going to take this. She told me she’d been living with him since November 18th (if I remember correctly) and that barely anyone knew. Her parents were fine with it, she said – I don’t know what his parents think, but since she’s living in their apartment, I presume they have no complaints.

“Do you love him?” I asked.

Nevada looked away. “I like being with him. It’s nice. But no, I don’t love him.”

I think she was worried about what my reaction might be. I didn’t react at all, just mulled it over. It’s a lot to take in, so there’d be no point in not giving myself time to. Besides, considering my utter lack of experience when it comes to romance in any of its forms, I hardly count myself qualified to say what is and isn’t right.

We made our farewells shortly after and went our separate ways. My mind was in something of a tumult the whole weekend, wondering how I should feel about this. I thought I would take forever to grow used to the notion, that I’d be confused and in doubt for at least a week. I took a while deliberating over how to write this, seeing as I might one day show this blog to my friends and I wouldn’t want to give away Nevada’s secret. I’d taken it for granted that I would have to write this, to clear my mind – this is supposed to be a diary, after all – just carefully.

But the time spent deliberating over wording ended up being too long. Before I knew it, I had gotten over it. It turns out I’m even more adaptable than I thought. Cool, eh? I almost didn’t post this at all, seeing as I didn’t need to anymore.

And I really don’t mind. It’s her business what she wants to do with her life, after all, and so long as she’s happy, who am I to judge? If the guy were a total jerk, then yes, but from what I remember he’s normal enough. Her parents approve – surely that counts for a good deal. Even more, she’s nineteen and has otherwise shown herself to be quite sensible. If she’s happy and if she’s careful, why shouldn’t she enjoy herself?

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