The Hamptons

Every responsible adult dreams of having a place in the Hamptons, right?  Big homes, beachfront property, peaceful sunsets away from the world...  Well, I'm in luck!  I've secured myself a place in the Hamptons for the summer!!

Okay, that was a lie.  

With the decision to move in with Joe (otherwise known as the man-friend), I will be vacating my apartment for June, July & August and moving into his place until the lease ends.  At that time, we will be relocating back to Center City, Philadelphia to find a home that we plan to inhabit for quite some time.  So, in essence I'm summering outside of the city this year.  It may not be the Hamptons, but it still has water views, quaint outdoor dining and the still quiet that comes with vacation homes.  Some call it East Falls; I call it the Hamptons.  

While I will try to enjoy my summer away from the craziness of Center City, I have spent a lot of time thinking about the transition.  In the 3+ years that I've lived in Philadelphia, I've been able to walk everywhere.  I've enjoyed Sips on Wednesdays and the ease of jogging down to Lloyd Hall on Saturday mornings.  Its going to be a huge adjustment for me to take the train to work, followed by a quick walk to the office, rather than simply rolling out my front door and strolling to the office in 10 minutes.  I've become rather accustomed to hearing the sirens roaring down the street or the drunk patrons stumbling loudly out of the bar around the corner.  It helps me sleep; the chaos of the city has become my sound machine. Its official:  this born and raised country girl has become a city girl.  However, we sacrifice for those that we love so these three months will serve to further solidify the love for the best man in my life and the city that I've come to hold so dear.

So, while Diddy is throwing his annual White Party, I'll be countering with a one time only White Party of my own - the White [Trash] Party.  Come one, come all....and bring your best cut-off denim shorts, white of course.

Step One

In exactly seven days I will be moving my last box out of my current single girl pad that I've shared with my best friend for the past three years into my boyfriend's apartment.  *gasp*  Sometimes it feels like I've just run through a sprinkler of really cold water.  Yes, I love him and yes, I couldn't be happier to finally be taking this step in our life.  However, I'm 32 and have established a pretty good single girl routine.  I've gotten used to sleeping in the middle of my bed, donned with purple sheets.  No one complains about my terrible (read: lack of) cooking.  The only laundry that piles up fits a girl of about 5'6" and is usually washed on Sundays.  I have a routine, people!  Alas, it's time.  If I ever want the heavily desired finger bling and the wedding of my dreams followed by a blissful marriage and little ginger-topped children, we must at some point cohabit.  

(random side note:  did you know that 'cohabitate' isn't a word?  I should really spend more happy hours with Merriam & Webster rather than Kendall and Jackson)

At any rate, the aforementioned "last box" would imply that I've packed a first box......uhhhh......I hate packing.  Who doesn't?!  In my defense, I've packed two boxes at this point.  I've spent a lot more of my time ordering a new comforter for the bed that will now be considered "ours".  Who knew it would be so hard to find a comforter that I like AND that still retains some of the masculinity that help the man-friend to forget how much of his own independence he will sacrifice come June 1st?  Based on my recent research, men like comforters that resemble ties - navy, striped, or striped navy.  And while we're on the topic of a man's bedding, why don't they use blankets?  Is there an aversion to the layer between the sheet and the comforter?  I may never know....

Back to the packing topic.  I've made an attempt to go through a lot of my clothing and shoes and make a pile to donate.  However, I've found this to be distracting.  I have no problem committing to give clothes away, but while doing so it happens to strike me that I wear sweatpants to bed A LOT.  So, just as you would expect, I abandoned the clothing sort for a quick to Victoria'sSecret.com.  Having The Man know that I wear sweatpants to bed six days a week?  No-go.  New, cute, feminine pajamas?  Yep.  Consider it done.  Oh, and quickly scrap the packaging that reveals new purchases.  Gotta keep up appearances here, folks.  When he finally figures out how much of a control freak I am, at least I'll be doing it in some sexy pj's.  

All kidding aside, next week begins an adventure with the man of my dreams.  I couldn't be happier to start this journey together.  He's a wonderful man with a high tolerance for my bullsh!t.  That alone makes him the most amazing man I've ever met.  Combine that with the many other things that he brings to this relationship and I couldn't be more grateful to have the opportunity to spend my days with him.  I'm a lucky girl....with a large credit card bill to pay....