For as long as I can remember, my dad — who suffers from a chronic case of nostalgia — has repeated the idiomatic expression, “the days are long but the years are short.” As the second semester of my third year is underway, the phrase is even more poignant. Just yesterday it seems that I chose to attend the University. Just yesterday it seems I moved into my McCormick Road dorm. And just yesterday, it seems like I began dating my on-and-off partner of two years.
As we have begun a new season of our relationship, it has become even more clear that we are both in it for the long run this time. Sure, we had in the past imagined what our future house might look like, what the yes’s and no’s of our wedding would be — in particular an ongoing debate about whether we should play a Black Eyed Peas mashup — and of course, jokingly naming future kids. I’d like to believe most young couples have done the same. But as we both enter our 20s and embark on our last few semesters of college, when does it become the right time to discuss our future as a couple more seriously?
My boyfriend and I had our first serious conversation about our future last fall, and it was surprisingly fruitful. Although we knew that we were compatible in our senses of humor, our political beliefs and, quite frankly, in bed, there was no way to know how compatible we could be five or 10 years down the line.
The conversation began quite casually while discussing post-graduate jobs. I have my eyes set on law school, while television and film production calls his name. Our fierce and ambitious career choices seemed to bear little common ground, making me apprehensive to ever discuss our plans with each other. Despite my apprehensions, as we talked, location seemed to be the biggest driving factor of our future choices — both of us want to end up back in Boston.
Our shared desire for location broke the ice for the rest of the conversation. We then moved on to post-grad living conditions. I aired out my hopes of living in an apartment in the heart of the city, and my partner corroborated that opinion — another step in the right direction. We discussed the logistics of moving in together, owning a car together and even how comfortable we would be at different levels of financial reliance on one another.
Even though all the stars seemed to align as we imagined our post-grad lives together more seriously, a question continued to pound in the back of my head: “When does he see himself getting engaged?”
It was pervasive, taboo and, in the spirit of full transparency, perhaps a bit too hasty. For most of my teenage life, I imagined myself being fully self-sufficient — a complete powerhouse attorney too busy climbing the corporate ladder to settle down with a family. Maybe I would have time for a few one-night stands here and there and keep a long-term situationship in my back pocket, but I wouldn’t commit to anything too soon. Kids never even entered this imagined world.
In recent years, however, my mindset has changed. I have begun a relationship with someone with whom I do want a white picket fence and home-cooked meals. This reality check had me questioning what I understood a fierce woman to be — not someone who is forcibly independent, but rather a woman who knows her worth and success within a partnership built on trust and respect.
With this clarity in mind, I found myself more eager to discuss things such as the marriage timeline. As I approached asking my partner his thoughts on the matter, I tried dodging the question by asking, “How serious do you see us being?” or, “Is marriage something you would want to do?” in as many ways as possible to avoid being too preemptive.
His response was perfect, interrupting my rambling to bluntly answer, “Of course I would marry you, seven or eight years down the line.” Suddenly, a weight came off of me, as we laid everything out on the table for the first time.
Now, I am not suggesting to emulate this dialogue with your Trin 3 casual hookup, but for those of us who are in long-term relationships, I can’t say I see much harm in defining the vision for the future in a transparent way. It’s important to have direction in a relationship. If you stay the course, it can be a valuable sense of stability despite a constant state of flux between childhood and adulthood as young adults.
As college students, we are constantly required to make decisions that feel “too soon.” We still feel too young to be paying utility bills, accepting job offers and making moves to new cities. But the years do go by fast, and big decisions creep up on us.
Our relationships are no exception to life moving fast. So if you ask me, it should never feel “too soon” to establish a standard of transparent communication with a partner at every stage. After all, the days may be long, but the years are short.




