Baby Just Say Yes

[thanks jLow and A]

Hiiiii cunny lingerers!

How's by you?  

Ahhhh I need to tell you I have the best work crush going right now. 

[via switchteams]

Eee hee hee we are talking a cute, kinda androgynous, totally mysterious work crush—I don't know her name, I don't know what she does at my job, I actually don't know anything about her at all except for that she has a sassy undercut and extraordinarily white teeth, which she uses to smile at me when I'm not expecting it. 

This causes me to slosh coffee down my shirt in confused alarm on a near-daily basis.

My work crush's smile is what it would look like if Julia Roberts were also Jesus, and it is deeply unnerving to have it beamed in my direction at random intervals.

Y'allfags should see my vintage white angora sweater.

Ruined. 

She just got moved into a desk that's kitty-corner from my desk at the office, and I now spend most of my work day pretending not to look at her. 

This is proving difficult, as summer is coming, and she seems committed to showing the world what exactly tank tops are for. 

[via e-baloo]

She's been my work crush for almost a month now.

And it's fun! She's a reason to put on the extra-tight skirt in the morning; a reason to make a detour past her desk when I'm getting yet another coconut-flavored La Croix from the fridge. 

Nothing serious. 
Juuuust something to take my mind off florescent lights and copy stage meetings. 

Work crushes are good for the morale, amirite? 

But ok: will you do me a quick favor and pretend she's your work crush for a second?

Pretend you, like me, alllllways see her in the bathroom and the cafeteria at the same time as you and she always holds the door for you and you sometimes catch her eye when you glance over to where she sits which means she was looking at you and one time she helped you mop up a water spill and you bumped heads and giggled and you once held the door open for her and you distinctly saw her ears get red.  

[thanks Sara LK]

That's what's going on.

Well.

With all that in mind, then—what if you were, say, heading for the train after work, and you suddenly saw this Massive Work Crush of yours walking towards you from about two blocks away? 

What if she looked really cute that day, her hands in her pockets, her sunglasses on and her undercut all fresh and crisp in the newly warm, sunshiney spring breeze?

[via bklynboihood]

What if she was coming closer and closer?

What would you do?

Would you:

a) walk towards her, smiling, and say "Haaaaaaaay" while obviously checking her out;

b) walk towards her with a poker face and pretend you didn't see her (classic lesbian default move!); or

c)  break out in a cold sweat panic, fumble in your bag for your phone, pull it out in order to pretend to be OMG TOTALLY IN THE MIDDLE OF AN IMPORTANT CALL SO YOU TOTALLY DON'T SEE YOUR WORK CRUSH AT ALL and, as you wildly swing the phone up to your face, watch in slow motion horror as it slips free of its case and sails through the air like a sleek silver and black dove, landing shatteringly in the middle of a busy intersection, screen smashing into several hundred pieces and skidding merrily to a stop face-up while about 30 onlookers (including your work crush) wince and go "OOOOOH SHIT" in a rare collective urban vote of sympathy?

If you chose a or b, you and I are in a fight right now.

But whatever. 

Shake it off, faggettes, we cannot let being terrifically socially inept hold us back! 

It's queerdyke mating season! The gays are out to play!  

[thanks kittynwong! this is amaze]

I mean, just a few weeks ago, the streets were empty. 

It was fucking freezing and all any of the lesbians wanted to do was put on pajamas directly after work and watch Game of Thrones. 

(I get it. I really do.)

That is, when they weren't buying starter cultures for their homemade kombucha, brewing it in Mason jars, and posting the pics on Pinterest. 

[via http://tmblr.co/ZLnKDyJAyV4k]

It has been a long goddamn winter.  

But turn the temperature up 50 degrees, and suddenly the adorable gayfolk are out in force!

I'm sitting at a coffeeshop in Andersonville watching what seems like hundreds of homos walking past, holding hands and licking ice cream cones and wearing brand-spankin', just-bought-a-new-pack-yesterday ribbed tank tops and looking fucking delighted to be outside.

[Bibi McGill via homoarigato]

How I've missed them all. 

The gay boys glistening with sweat as they walk down the street carrying gym bags. 

[thanks Mikal. SYWAD, why don't you]

The queergirls circling around on just-tuned-up bikes, flashing new tattoos and cigarettes tucked behind one ear. 

[thanks Britt G]

The book club dykes sitting outside at a cafe table drinking iced green tea, their Tevas fairly squelching with newness. 

[thanks! loveswing]

I MISSED Y'ALL SO MUCH, MY GOD WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN??

Come here you queerz I want to wear this shirt and make out with evvvvveryonnnne!!

[get it, Dad]

Besides impending summer (and horniness!) we have a real reason to be making out—celebration! 

Two minutes ago, as I was writing this mess and streaming a live news feed on my laptop at the coffeeshop, the votes clicked in. 

The Minnesota Senate just voted, 37-30, to pass the gay marriage bill!!!!! 

[happy tears! happy!]

Minnesota is now the 12th state in Amurrica where homos can get legally hitched! 

The first Midwest state to make gay marriage legal through a legislative vote! 

[thanks! tatsysboots]

After all this time and all the generations of struggle... the THIRD STATE TO DO SO IN TWO WEEKS!


Change is a-comin', faggettes, and it's happening faster than I ever even imagined it would.

UH MUH GUH GAYS CAN GET MARRIED IN MINNESOTA!!  

[thanks Kailey V.S.]

Hahahaha I don't even know what to do! 

I'm by myself in a public space!
No one knows why I'm cheering! I look crazy!!

Aggghhh I'm crying.

I've been happy when other states legalized gay marriage, but the momentousness of what's happening never really hit me 'til now. 

[thanks keo and ashley]

I've always thought of Minneapolis as my home base, even though I spent my childhood in California and Wisconsin.

When I was 18, and without a thought in my head, I moved to Minneapolis, "choosing" to go college there because I was too lazy to apply to any other colleges. Totally future-oriented! 

[thanks NatFranzia]

I knew nothing about the city or the University of Minnesota, only that I had vaguely enjoyed visiting my sister in her dorm room... exactly one time. 

It was (as all things are, young grasshoppers) the right place for me to be at the right time. 

While I was in Minneapolis, so many things happened. 

I left the Mormon church. 

I figured out I was a lezzzbian. 

I started doing burlesque, started writing, and found a tight-knit queer family.

[it's meeee and Lola, Sweetpea, Coco, and Switch]

Minneapolis was my headquarters for learning how to consciously build the life I wanted to live.

I will freely admit that I love Minneapolis more than any other city, and not just because it's a wonderful, green, liberal li'l city that's not too big and not too small and has giant rambling houses with screened-in porches and cheap rent and hundreds of bike punks and a massive local food culture and quirkly little coffee shops and miles of shimmering lakes and more lesbians per square foot than a Tegan and Sara concert on Pride weekend.  

[thanks pillowtalkmpls]

All those things help, but that's not why I love Minneapolis. 

I love Minneapolis because it is the first place where I ever felt like I was home. 

[This is the Blue Moon Cafe. Order a maple soy cold press and know I am incredibly jealous from afar.]

Even when I travelled—even when I moved away and then moved back and moved away again—even now, whenever I drive back into the city to visit and see the skyline rising up like a drawing in my head of how a skyline should look, I feel like I'm driving through the place I understand the most, the trees draping into the river, the names of streets and neighborhoods familiar and woodsy-sounding—Cedar, Franklin, Powderhorn, Seward, Hiawatha, Lake.

[thanks pillowtalkmpls]

Minneapolis is my first real home. 

And now everygay I know in Minnesota can finally feel like they're welcome, as they are, in the city and state they've called home for years. 

[thanks Autumn W]

Queers can get married and have the same rights as everyone else in Minnesota now, and I think that this—this basic extension of human dignity and recognition of gay relationships—is going to have a massive ripple effect in my adopted home state, a ripple effect that's already happening all over the country. 

This is some historic shit! 

[thanks Devi and Kalinda]

Gays can get married, for-real-married, and it won't be—as a newly-unfriended-on-Facebook person recently put it to me—"just a couple of homosexuals giving themselves a party with cake and rings" to anyone anymore, no matter how asshole-ish they are or how they feel about queer marriage. 

No one cares aboutcher shitty homophobic views anymore; the law-uh says we kin do it and that's that. 

[thanks Wendy M]

LEGALLY MARRIED NOW, BITCHES, YA LIKE THAT?

Now, I have a number of queer friends who are already engaged, or thinking extremely hard about getting married, and this just makes things even more awesome for them.

But you sluts know I like to worry.

[thanks Allie]

And while I'm super-happy for all of Minnesota and all the couples who can now recognize their relationships with legal status...

does being able to get married mean that suddenly I have to, um, worry about getting married? 

[thanks!]

Because eeeeeek.

All my adult life, I've just blown off the marriage thing.
  
It was never really a question. 
People would ask me if I ever wanted to get married and I would snort, "Let's see if it ever becomes legal first. Maybe then I'll think about it. Come talk to me if I can be married in one state, cross the border, and still be married." 

And then one day you wake up and it's happening. 

[thanks OISHIIMOMO and Liza]

Maybe I still couldn't go for that I'm-legally-married-in-all-50-states honeymoon road trip across America just yet, but if it can happen in Minnesota, it can happen in any other state. 

And (sorry bigots!) it's going to happen. 

The third state in two weeks, gaymosexuelles.   

Ready or not, it's time to talk about marriage, and not in a "why can't we have it???!!"-type way. 

I mean, I used to be able to count on not being quizzed about marriage or baby plans in social gatherings.  

I'm queer! I may not have rights, but at least I don't have to pretend to care about tying pastel-colored jordan almonds up into tiny bags of tulle!

[#whocares]

Now I can't hide behind the "well, it's not legal so let's not worry about it" argument anymore.  

It's starting to happen.  
Friends, relatives - they're starting to jokingly poke me whenever someone announces their engagement and go "Ho ho ho, and when will you be tying the knot?" *wink wink*

[thanks Anya G]

Ugh.

Straights have been bitching about this for shit for years, and I dunno, I always kind of assumed that my publicly avowed goal in life (to have a face full of pussy) would be my protection when it came to nosy people asking me about marriage plans. 

Everyone knew I was a dyke, and so everyone left me alone about it.

[thanks Aimee]

Now I - I - I...I might have to start giving some thought to marriage. 

At some point.

Marriage as a possibility, as something that other mos might want to be shooting for during relationships. 

[thanks Autumn W]

I'm not even sure how I feel about marriage to begin with, and, while America's stance on gay marriage has been unbelievably shitty, it's also been quite a convenient way for me to not really, um, have to think about it. 

My argument was: 

"Gay people can't get married, legally, and I'm gay, and I'm not interested in getting married if it's not legal"

and that was that. 

Ta-da! Neatly boxed and put away in my mind.

[thanks Erin F, haaaay]

As soon as I knew I was someone who liked boobs more than almost anything else on this earth, I abandoned any thoughts of getting married.

[you're welcome]

Wasn't gonna happen.  

No white dress for meeee, well fuck, I guess I'll just have to content myself with piles of hot dyke sex. 

[marry me, jenny]

But with gay marriage slowly sweeping across the country like a drag queen's sequined train, I find myself... a little nervous about what's next, while still being thrilled for everyone who does want to exercise their access to their rights. 

Not being able to get married is a lot different than consciously choosing not to. 

What does this do? 

Now I'm all confused.

Is it ok to still not really care about getting married, or does this put me into some kind of a "commitment-phobic" category now? 

[thanks Chyna]

With state after state voting gay marriage into law, what will happen to the queers who haven't given marriage any, er, real thought or attention whatsoever?  

Are we gay dinosaurs now? 

Boxes of All Sizes

[thanks Randi B.]

How's it goin', clit whisperers?

Everything is lovely here. 
So calm.

As I write this, I have a roast going in the Crock-Pot, almond milk yogurt going in the yogurt maker (yes! I am that dyke!), and a bunneh quietly nibbling tiiiiiny little cabbage wraps stuffed with parsley and cilantro. 

[Anything for Mr. Maxwell]

My apartment is clean. 

There are fresh sheets on the bed and the wood floors have been swiffered and the dishes are done and the bathroom sink isn't all grimy. There's a new cake of soap in the shower and there are groceries in the fridge. 

Three Virgin of Guadalupe candles are flickering on my windowsill.  

Dolly Parton is singin' on the record player. 

I'm slowly eating my way through a sack of clementines, eating eaaaaaach lil' clemmie segment by segment. 

Yesterday, I even successfully made my own dairy-free Nutella. 

Y'allfags, I (very suddenly) have a lot more time, and it's both a good and a bad thing. 

Good:  I have more time to work on Rookie articles and writing projects, more time to hang out with friends and suss out cute queerfolk gatherings and keep my house clean and actually do my laundry!

Bad:  I have this time because...CJ took a job in Minneapolis. 

And she moved there. A few weeks ago. 

[Midgeon P. Bundlesworth did not want help to pack up]

Remember when I said I was freaking out about stuff in my life?  This was part of the freaking out:/

Now don't anybody get their boyshorts in a twist; we're still datin', and we still see each other pretty often, and this gives me an excuse to go to Minneapolis—the greenest, prettiest, best, dykiest city in Amurrica— more often, but still. 

It's confusing. 

I'm settled in Chicago now. I'm real tired of moving. 

CJ is likewise settling into Minneapolis —for the permanent, forseeable future— and she's really, really tired of moving. 

What, um, does that mean?

I can't really think about it very much right now. 
I'm trying not to. 

[via dapperanddandy]

Also, I am suddenly making myself dinner more often than not, and it is not going well.  

It turns out that you can only chop onions extremely rapidly and perfectly like they do on Iron Chef if you know some kind of trick.

There was also a whimsical mixup where, when making a curry dish, I used cinnamon powder from an unmarked plastic bag instead of garam masala powder.
**insert trills of gay laughter**

[see? if you have a stuffy nose you can't tell which one it is, either]

For the most part, though, my cooking mistakes have all been very manageable up until about a week ago. 

Then, last Saturday, I accidentally knocked a whole carafe of olive oil down the burner-holes of my stove. 

After dancing around with paper towels going, "fuckfuckfuck!" for a few seconds, I ended up getting lazy and just wiping the top of the stove off, forgetting about all the oil inside the stove.

Two days later, I lit the burners.

Visits to your local burn unit aside, living on your own can actually be pretty good.  

My time is suddenly all mine. 
Everything at my house stays clean when I clean it. 
I get to date other people and still have lots of guaranteed alone time. 

Things'll work themselves out. 

For now, I'm just trying to adjust to the new situation. 

Now! We've just changed our clocks, haven't we, tricks?  

The snowdrops and daffodils are poking their shy heads from the new-thawed ground and the little lambs are baaaahing all knock-kneed and the Easter Bunny is about to bring my ass about a thousand discounted Reese's Peanut Butter Eggs the day after Easter, so what does all that mean...?

Why, it's Spring, the season of new starts and rebirth!

Just as duckies are pecking their way out of their confining shells, every lesbiqueer in the land is sniffing the rich, earthy smell of the soil as it warms in the sun, thinking:

"Gosh, it sure is nice to feel the sunshine again—I can't wait to get my bike out. Are those birds? God, it's been so long since I heard birds... I swear to christ I just heard Solange blasting from that car's open window, fuck yes. Hey, look at that! Buds on the trees!" 

and then, for reasons that defy science to this day, jumping directly from those peaceful springtime thoughts to: 

"You know, it sure is stupid that I spend almost every night at my girlfriend's house but I still pay rent on my apartment."

Yes. 

That is the exact, scientific pattern of the thoughts we ladygays have in late March/early April. (It took researchers years of transcribing and paid brain studies to record this split-second synapse.)  

[thanks Susie]

No one knows how we as a people annually make that thought-jump, but make it we do.

As predictable as the seasons themselves, it's the start of the Annual Dyke Moving Season!  Hoooraaaay! 

So, today we're finally talking about one of the most epic and persistent stereotypes about lesbians ever—U-Haul lesbians. 

[via feministdating]

Ohhhh c'mon.  Don't be like that.  


I really want to talk about this. 
I can't believe we never have. 

I mean, there are articles about U-Haul lesbians and lezzers who make fun of U-Haul lesbians and lots of lesbiqueers who insist that they aren't U-Haul lesbians, but somehow, U-Haulin' keeps mysteriously happening to the queers that surround us all.

[thanks Yaara]

And what is a U-Haul lesbian? 
(asks maybe someone? from another country? who is new to being queer and/or totally removed from queer culture?)


A U-Haul lesbian is a dyke who moves in with her current lover after only dating for a short amount of time. 

[thanks Miranda]

An alarmingly short amount of time. 
An amount of time that makes the dyke-in-question's friends gasp.

Anywhere from, say, a few weeks to juuust shy of twelve months. 

I mean, we've all heard the joke, right?

Q: What does a lesbian bring to the second date?

A: A U-Haul.

HA HA HA *barfs*

[via streets-are-uneven]

Not only is this the oldest lesbian joke around...it stings a bit because it has juuuuust the teensiest ring of truth. 


People joke about lezzers moving in with each other way too early  for a reason—it's often kind of true. 

We do it.  
It happens a lot in real life. 

[thanks Rose]

And I don't know about you all, but this is a conversation I have on the regular with friends in newish relationships:

Friend: Soooo guess what? 

Me: What? 

Friend: Tell me what you think, but I think I'm going to ask Danni/Kym/Jess/current-girlfriend-of-several-months if she wants to move in with me!

Me: I think that's a horrible idea.

Friend: Uggh I knew you'd say that. I don't know why I'm even telling you. 

Sluts, it's true. I admit it. 
I am a known wet blanket when it comes to supporting my friends who are U-Hauling. 

It's because I can't with this shit anymore.
I just can't. 

People don't like when they ask you for your opinion and it doesn't match theirs, though, so lately I've been trying harder to just go "Ooooh hoooommm ahhh" and nod wisely when someone tells me they're moving in with their new girlfriend. 

Otherwise I'll have no friends left, and then who would I go for tacos with?

[did you know kangaroos lie like this? me either.]

But fuckit—this is the internet and no one ever feels repercussions in their real lives from something they said on the internet, right? 

So here goes: 

DYKES! HEAR ME! Moving in with someone you've been dating for less than, say, a year, is a horrible idea.  

Almost always. 

It's none of my fucking business what y'allfags do, obviously, but it iiiiiiis, though, because I love you and I want your new relationship to be beautiful and lovely and happy and I want you two to work out. 

I do. 
I want you queermos to kiss each other in selfies and put that shit on facebook. 

[Ricky and Stephanie haaaay do you like each other? <3>

I want you to post disgustingly cute Instagrams of the heart-shaped pancakes one of you makes the other on Valentine's Day. 
In my heart of hearts, I wish mind-blowing fuck sessions and adorable pillow talk and barfy secret animal nicknames upon you, along with snuggling and movies and brunch and inside jokes and holding hands with your partner while walking on a crisp autumn day. 

[thanks Yaara]

This is what I hope for you faggettes, and this is why I must rail against U-Haulin'. 

But best believe: I get it. I really do. 

You love your girl/boifriend, and you've been dating for awhile now with practically no problems. Y'all are basically perfect together. 

No fights, not much drama, you're over there all the time anyway, and sorry, but have you seen them? Danni/Kym/Jess/current-lover-of-several-months is sooooo fucking cute, my GOD. 

[thanks pillowtalkmpls]

Why wouldn't you want to go to sleep with them every night and wake up every day with them? Why wouldn't you revel in the fact that you're coming home every evening from work to the cutest person in the world, who will help make dinner and then let you pick the Netflix and fuck you senseless and then sleep naked while spooning you?  

[thanks yaara]

It's really hard to find an awesome girlfriend in this town.  
You need to lock that shit down.
I know, I know. 

But hunnybun.  Cutie pie.  Darling-of-my-heart:  Don't do it. 

Don't move in with your lovah if you've only been dating for three or four or five or seven months. 

It will most likely fuck with your relationship and you will probably break up from the stress of it, unless you're a couple in a million. 

And maybe you were meant to break up in the long run anyway, but moving in early makes things a hundred times worse.

A new relationship is not ready for the responsibility and day-to-day work that living together entails. 

[thanks Margo L.]

A new relationship is at the point in the love story where you and your new sweetie get to stare at each other in coffeeshops when you should be working on the computer and fuck each other in cars because you can't wait to get upstairs and take each other out on elaborately impressive dates and really miss each other when one of you goes home. 

[thanks Lauren and Adrienne]

Moving in together prematurely ages your relationship. 

When you move in together early, you suddenly have to deal with Life Shit like paying bills and rent and whose turn it is to buy milk and cat food. Suddenly, at the same time, you're also finding things out about your lover that you didn't know at all or that you maybe find...kind of annoying. 

Like maybe she clips her fingernails in the sink but then doesn't wash them down the drain. 

Maybe s/he doesn't, um, ever do the dishes. 

Maybe she has a dog she loves but you're finding out she's actually pretty bad about taking care of it, and suddenly, because you feel guilty about the poor dog who never gets let out...it's basically your dog now. 

TOO BAD YOU LIVE TOGETHER NOW, THOUGH, AMIRIGHT?

[thanks OISHIIMOMO]

It's entirely possible that, given more time to just date, you would have discovered that:

a) some of these things (omg the poor dog!) are dealbreakers,  or 

b) you love this person enough to work through the annoying things. 

We'll never know which one it would have been now, though, will we? 

[thanks Zoe D.]

You are now forced make a decision that actually needed a lot more time—how well do you work with this person? Do you want to move forward or move out? 

If you want to move forward in the relationship, you need to work out and deal with the things that are driving you crazy about living with your partner. 
And you may not have had enough conflict in your relationship yet to know how to, um, deal with conflict in your relationship.

But if you want to move out...the relationship is most likely gonna be over. 

Because you live together, there is no breathing room for not being sure. 

[thanks Emily S! zanybah.com]

You can't just continue to date your lover, finding things out about them slowly, and making a decision about them after knowing how you two mesh and what you're getting into. 

It's all in or get off the boat. 

[thanks Rose S.]

And new relationships don't need that kind of pressure. 
They tend to crack under the strain. 

I submit this incredibly legitimate study to you as proof:

Every gayelle friend I have ever had who moved in with her girlfriend before they'd been dating for at least a year...is no longer with her girlfriend. 

With no exceptions.
(And I know a lot of lesbians.)

But! But! 

You have good reasons for moving in! 
You're sure it will work for you! 
You and your girl are so right together, and I'm an overgeneralizing asshole! 

You have arguments!
  

[thanks Wynn]

And here they all are, in no particular order! 

1) We're going to move in together after only dating a few months because...

"It's cheaper to live together! We'll be saving money."

Aww, how romantic are you?

Gheys, I get it. The economy is bad. We're young and/or we have shitty jobs. But if the sole reason you're moving in with your girlfriend is to save money? Not only is this the most unromantic thing ever, but jesus, haven't you ever heard of roommates? 

Save your relationship.  Live with friends. 
Or non-creepy strangers from Craigslist roommate ads. 

Anyone but your sweet girlfriend of four months. 

[Thanks Victoria! From findingsnooze]

2) We're going to move in together after only dating a few months because...

"I'm over there every night anyway, it's stupid to have my own place too, and I'm sick of living out of a bag."

Yes.  You are dating someone new.  That means you will be over at their place a lot. They will be over at yours. This does not make your place useless—it serves a distinct function in that it is your place, a living situation separate from your new lover's. 

The thrill of being in someone's unfamiliar space is part of dating someone new. Maybe get a toothbrush at your girlfriend's house and calm down, honeybear?

Traveling back and forth between houses is admittedly inconvenient, but you know what's more inconvenient?  

Breaking up with someone you signed a year-long lease with when you only knew them for five months beforehand. 

[thanks Britt]

3) We're going to move in together after only dating a few months because...

"We love each other soooo much. We're meant to be."

This is adorable and sweet and so, so hopeful.  
How cute is it that it was love at first sight and you're totally fated to be with this person you've only spent a handful of blissful weeks with? 

You're doomed. 

[thanks Blake! eyesatme]

4) We're going to move in together after only dating a few months because...

"We're such good friends, we'd be great roommates even if we ever broke up!"

Nope.  No, you're not.  And no, you wouldn't be.  

If you and your new lover were friends to begin with, or consider yourselves friends and lovers, then the process of breaking up and moving out should (fairly neatly) take care of that. 

Even if you two can somehow manage to continue living together after breaking up, it will be awkward. as. fuck. for the next few months. 

[thanks Sarah T.]

Ugh.

Actually, the only reason I can possibly think of that could possibly be a winning argument for moving in early with someone is:

5) "It's an emergency."

Things happen, mos. 

Girlfriends of six months that you're completely in love with suddenly lose their jobs and have no savings. 

Your new girlfriend's dad gets sick and the only way she can afford to keep flying back and forth to take care of her dad is if she gets rid of her apartment. 

You get sick, really sick, and your lover of seven months moves in to help take care of you because you can't move back in with your parents.

Of course things happen. And sometimes moving in together is the best of the few possible solutions. But in that case, you're only doin' it because you have to, and you do it with your eyes open, knowing that it could strain your relaysh. 

[thanks pillowtalkmpls]

Now, I'm sure there are some of you faggettes out there who moved in together prematurely, and it worked out fiiiine. (There have to be, or else why would dykes keep U-Hauling alive, the fine and thriving tradition that it is today?)  

It must have worked out for someone somewhere. 

[thanks OISHIIMOMO and Liza]

But—at the risk of sounding like a True Love Waits teen purity rally—what, gayelles, is so wrong with just dating?  
Getting to know someone thoroughly before jumping whole-hog into Living Together? 

It can only help a relationship for both people to know exactly what they're getting into.

[thanks Maria J.]

And think about how exciting it will be to move in together when you do decide to do it. 

There's nothing like that first walk through IKEA, friends.
Nothing.

Lesbiqueers.  Mine is not the only opinion out there. 

U-Hauling:  Anyone got something to say?