Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic

The Police certainly did not live with whichever girl they wrote this song about.

Until now, I've never lived with anyone I've slept with. Sure, I slept with The Roommate while we lived together but it wasn't exactly the same as living together. We always had the option to be separated by bricks and mortar and wood. When I wanted to, I could always hide--hide the comfortable granny panties that I can't bear to part with, the green refining mask that allegedly reduces the size of my pores, the random bouts of crying that I occasionally enjoy.

Live-in boyfriends see everything. He chuckles at the dots of blemish cream I wear before bed and at the ridiculousness of my speech with whitening strips in my mouth. He watched me without comment as I squirmed and struggled into my Spanx before the DNC Election Party last night. Before I fretted about letting these parts of myself show to the boys in my life. What would they think of me? How could anyone possibly find me attractive after watching me put on Spanx?! Honestly, it repulses even me.

Then again, his knowledge of all those little idiosyncrasies is part of the appeal. Each small personality tick exists in a bubble of just him and I. In a few instances, they've become private jokes that no one else is privy to. I guess that's what intimacy is. After fearing it more than the Booger Man for so long, I have to admit that I kind of like it.