You wonder who owns the saucepans, the couch, the painting you bought on your first trip together… It’s hard to remember the memories. Not to think of the day when you unpacked your boxes here, happy.
Posted at 6:15 p.m.
When you moved in together, you knew that the majority of couples end up breaking up, but you were confident. There, it was different.
You hate moving, but you knew how to laugh about it. You were excited. The boxes were lighter than usual… It’s sweet, the beginning of a world for two.
Over time, you have left your fingerprints on the smallest surfaces of the accommodation. The color of the walls, what they carry, what they hide. The furniture, the smells, the marks on the floor. The house has become a reflection of who you are together.
Of what you were.
Because the statistics have caught up with you. You gradually had the impression of being immured, frozen in a space that was more restrictive than comforting. The truth is, you didn’t want to be there anymore, at home.
The time has come to repack.
Except that you’ve invested so much of the smallest coin in two that it’s difficult to determine who is supposed to walk away with what. You could discuss it, if you still wanted to talk to each other… You manage to do it if necessary, but it always leaves your heart in pieces. You prefer to avoid.
You say to yourself that everyone goes through it, but that it’s still a stupid thing to do. You wonder if you could have made it easier…
I enter your room while you sort through the contents of the wardrobe. You are confused. What am I doing here ?
“I am the girl with a long name that writes in The Press and I have advice for you. »
You find the break in tone a bit abrupt, but you want answers, so you go with it…
I explain to you that an essay published in 2017 changed the way I see life together: Love and Money — 60 Question Survival Guide (the Editions du remue-ménage). The co-authors Hélène Belleau and Delphine Lobet notably devote a chapter to the issues to be considered when moving in as a couple…
Among them: the rupture.
You think it’s not very romantic. I answer you that this is precisely what I said to the sociologist and professor at the National Institute of Scientific Research (INRS) Hélène Belleau, when I spoke to her a few days ago.
PHOTO PHIL BERNARD, PROVIDED BY INRS
Hélène Belleau, sociologist and professor at the National Institute for Scientific Research
You are curious to know what she answered me…
I quote it while trying to imitate it. You see that this is really not one of my strengths.
“You have to take advantage of the fact that when you move in together, there are a lot of questions that you naturally ask yourself. One might be, “It’s not gonna happen, but if we ever broke up in 20 years, what would we do?” It is important to decide on the separation of property from the start. And, ideally, the agreement should be written down somewhere…”
You like this twist. “It won’t happen, but…” You note.
I would add that she has several, things like that. For example, the authors propose that when one of the partners leaves everything behind to move in with the other, his possessions be stored in a warehouse, the costs of which will be shared. That way, if there is a break, he won’t have to start from scratch.
If not, we have to find ways to balance it out. If one person already has all the appliances and the other has to part with his, we can decide that the washer and dryer will come back to him, in the event of separation.
OK, but what if we bought everything together?
I bring out my poor imitation of Hélène Belleau: “You have to make sure that everyone owns certain things. We can have a file in which we keep our invoices with the name of the person to whom the furniture will return in the event of a breakage, for example. »
Illustration Julien Chung, La Presse
We can have a file in which we keep our invoices with the name of the person to whom the furniture will return in the event of a breakage, for example.
I’m asking if you would like to know any other questions to think about before moving in with your loved one. You answer yes, half out of curiosity and half because you can’t wait for this strange staging to end.
According to Hélène Belleau, we have to ask ourselves who owns the house: “Who pays the mortgage and does the other pay part of it or not? Because if we contribute to the mortgage of the other, we enrich it in a certain way. Is there compensation somewhere? »
Speaking of financial organization, you also have to think about family recomposition, according to the researcher: “If a partner has children every other week, you need bigger accommodation. How do we separate the costs from the rent? »
I could also talk to you about family allowances. From the moment a spouse enters the house, the government takes their income into account, which can reduce the amounts allocated by thousands of dollars, but hey… That would take us a little further from the subject.
Anyway, you are no longer in the mood to talk about life together. You remind me that it’s too late for that. In your case, it’s over. To which I reply that this information will be useful to you, the next time…
Because chances are you will dive again. Whether love makes you want a lair for two or three again, I don’t judge…
I would add that if not, I wish you to find the sweetest of cocoons. A house that will be entirely yours and whose walls will bear only your proud footprints. A place to rebuild yourself and remind you of all that you are in your tremendous uniqueness.
Then, I leave your room backwards.
My benevolent gaze makes you uncomfortable.
“That was weird,” you say to yourself as you continue your sorting.