The couple has lived in a 36' sailboat and now a 200sq ft house. Being so close together has made them attuned to their needs and quirks.
Courtesy of TJ Butler
"I can't stand to be near him. Everything he does annoys me. We can't stop bickering." I read the Facebook post for the second time. A woman described her failing relationship since moving into a tiny house with her boyfriend. The post was full of warnings to others about how bad it would be, offering up her failed experience as a one-size-fits-all.
Scores of women looking into tiny living were reassessing their plans. "I didn't know it could be so bad" echoed throughout the comments. I wanted to warn them that it didn't have to be that way, but I didn't reply because there were too many comments. My opinion would have been lost.
Tiny house living is one of the best things my husband and I ever did for our relationship.
Tiny life creates a magnifying glass focused on the relationship; if you're not compatible or able to adapt, you'll eventually crash and burn like the Facebook woman. Alternately, if your connection is strong, the close proximity will make your union rock solid.
We've been living tiny since 2017, first on a 36' sailboat and now, in a 200 sq ft tiny house.
Our time at home hasn't changed since our last apartment; whether we're reading, using our laptops, or streaming a show, we're usually together on the couch when we're home.
In tiny spaces being home together is a tango where we have to know each other well to prevent bumping heads or elbows.
Acclimating to tiny life was an exercise in teamwork in the beginning. With our living space consisting of a single, open room with a sleeping loft, we've learned how to creep around when the other is sleeping or to get dressed in the living room when the other is in the bathroom.
There's little privacy or alone time.
Instead of wishing to escape each other like the Facebook woman, we adapted to the new, closeness. We discovered that our relationship had deepened and strengthened in the process.
I think of courtesy and mindfulness when I think of sharing a small space with my husband and our dog. For example, making my husband's morning coffee before he wakes up benefits us both; waking up to perfectly prepared coffee is a nice way for him to start the day, and he isn't in my way when I'm in the kitchen.
We've become attuned to each other's habits and quirks. Knowing your spouse this well means volunteering to take the dog for a walk if the other needs some alone time or privacy. I don't know that I'd always be this finely attuned to my husband if we weren't in such close quarters, both mentally and physically.
Generally, however, alone time for us means being engaged in separate activities, not being in separate spaces. Our sleeping loft feels like a different room but we rarely hang out up there just to get away.
When we're not working, hiking, or walking the dog, we're on the couch together in a comfortable tangle of legs and laptops. My husband may be listening to an audiobook and I may be reading on my iPad or writing, but the couch is our central meeting point. Without space for a coffee table, we use couch armrest trays for our drinks and snacks.
Tiny living's close proximity has made us more courteous of each other and hyperaware of how we occupy our space as individuals and as a couple. We're respectful of each other's boundaries and give each other room to breathe.
However, we always come back to snuggling on the couch.
