It’s the sort of news that’ll have Grandma pining for the good old days: More unwed couples are living together than ever before, according to a new Census study. The number of shacked-up couples jumped 13 percent in the last year to an all-time high of 7.5 million, and experts say it’s not a decline in morals that’s driving the trend — it’s a drop in income.
The economy, they claim, is spurring unmarried sweethearts to pool their resources in the form of shared rent and utilities.
Which makes sense. It is cheaper to live with your lover. And while I’m technically a love child and thus a terribly unreliable source for conventional relationship advice, I have to tell you that living in sin is also jolly good fun.
When my fella and I first moved in together, I was so utterly enchanted with having him constantly nearby that I followed him from room to room in our tiny apartment.
“Whatcha doin’?” I’d ask.
“Watching the game.”
“Whatcha doin’ now?”
“Untangling these extension cords.”
“How ’bout now?”
“I’m reading, babe, and on a completely unrelated topic, is it going to be like this forever?”
It wasn’t. Adorable quirks (and also mine) have a way of tempering with time. But there’s one aspect of living together that I still haven’t gotten used to, still haven’t learned to love.