When the lockdown was officially announced in the US, we were fortunate enough that both of us could easily transition to working from home. If there was anything I needed to do in the building, I could show up at 1am and do it with no risk of running into anyone except maybe the janitorial staff.

We had no problem with that transition. I made room in what was my hobby room, and we had our desks side by side. We loved it. We got to see each other every day, spend lots of time together, vent about work bullshit, and go shopping at odd hours when no one else was there. We camped a lot, we binged a lot of TV shows, and we BBQ'd a lot. Furthermore, we also had the house to ourselves, so work was entirely clothing optional.

But this is the way we've always been, for twenty-one years now; attached at the hip. We do everything together. So it was increasingly weird for us to hear the stories on social media and eventually on the news about the number of relationships ending due to having to spend so much time together. It turns out a great deal of couples really can't stand to be around each other for very long. I always thought this was strictly a boomer thing, due to that generation's general belief that marriage was never to be broken, no matter how miserable you were, no matter how much you hated each other, and no matter how much one partner abused the other. Not ever.

My dad is definitely one of these people. He and his wife (my stepmother, whom I hate with the fire of a thousand suns) can only stand to be around each other for a week or so, and then either my dad decides to go on another road trip, or she tells him to go on a road trip. He travels all over Wyoming, pulling his restored, vintage, 1930s teardrop. Yay for boomer retirement plans.

Now that they have both developed health issues that make leaving home less and less common, they have literally split the house in two. She has the entire upper floor as her own, and he only comes up from the basement to use the kitchen.

He insists their marriage is a blissful one. It's fucking weird.

My partner's parents aren't quite so bad; they are able to cohabitate fine, but it's more of a roommate situation. There is zero romance there, and my partner is certain that they haven't had sex in forty years.

I guess this works for plenty of people, but I don't understand it.