The older you get, the harder it is to share your life with another person. I miss the unreserved exuberance with which Geoff and I decided to share our lives, literally weeks after we first met, all those years ago. We were young, unencumbered with financial responsibilities, each living with roommates we disliked. Our careers were just starting, the world was young and full of potential. I don’t think I can decide to move in with anyone after just knowing them for weeks, not anymore, not at 42. The bar is way, way higher, the path to happiness is so much rockier. I have much respect for people aged 50 and beyond that fall in love and dive straight into a life together. If life is a loose-leaf binder, then adding blank pages is a lot easier than combining pages from two different books and wishing a coherent narrative emerges. Yet we must try.
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