Living With A Partner Is Easy. Moving With One Is The Hard Part.

My boyfriend and I finally made it to our new apartment. Our belongings are stacked in nearly every square inch of the place, save for a few treacherous paths between each room. We’ve been unpacking nonstop for at least three hours, and I finally have to use the bathroom. I excuse myself from the chaos, then realize we have yet to locate our toiletries — yes, even our toilet paper. Great. I’m panicking, then yelling at him. “Can you look for it? Can we steal some from the building’s communal bathroom? Can you run to our bodega to grab a roll?” We’ve lived in this neighborhood for less than a single afternoon. We don't have “our” bodega yet.

Rule number one of moving: always keep must-haves, like toilet paper, on your person. Rule number two? Nothing said in a relationship during a move really counts. At least that’s what my mom always told me, a piece of advice passed down from my dad’s first boss after my parents’ first relocation as newlyweds.

Although my partner and I had already been living together for a few months (he moved into the Manhattan apartment I had been in for four years before we decided to take our talents to Brooklyn), we had never had to do the act of moving together. And I expected it to be just as central to our love story as my parents’ was to theirs. They spent their first night in the house with nothing but a box TV and a footlocker.

The Anticipatory Stress Of It All

I anticipated my type A personality overwhelming his type B nature, although that’s typically one of the most complementary parts of our relationship under normal circumstances. During the apartment search process, I was scrolling pages of Zillow listings during lunch breaks while also planning a friend’s bachelorette party, aka sending a “Hey girlies💗” text every other day — all while trying to be a functioning adult between those extraneous responsibilities.

My boyfriend works weekdays, Friday nights, and some Saturdays, so I had no idea when we’d actually find the time to go through our stuff, donate what we didn’t need, and pack up our belongings. Where do people even get cardboard boxes? Then, of course, there’s the fact that no one we know in the city has a car to help us, and it would take too many trips to get everything from one place to another anyway. The cost of relocating — including the first and last month’s rent, security deposit, and key fobs for our new apartment — only added to the burden.

That’s when, almost like that moment in a movie when the sky opens up and a bright light shines on the protagonist while angels harmonize in the background, Piece of Cake Moving offered me a free move.

My partner and I are absolute maximalists. We have everything from a bulky Peloton bike to a prized (and hefty) collection of vinyl records.

I’d spotted the brand’s iconic pink trucks around the tristate area and even on my Instagram feed — my algorithm definitely knew I was looking for an apartment — but I didn’t know much about the company’s all-inclusive white glove service. It turns out they can essentially do your whole move for you, so you don’t have to lift a finger. My stress about logistics and finances had already melted away, and now, I was free of the resentment I would have felt if I were stuck spending my last few Friday nights in my old neighborhood filling boxes while my partner worked. A double whammy win.

Instead of stressing, I could really hunker down and focus on actually finding a new apartment. My boyfriend knew I’d be pickier about our space and neighborhood (he’s right), so he let me take the reins of sorting through options. Then, after several weeks of touring, we landed on an apartment that seemed just right: a dishwasher, central air, and gym, oh my!

Moving Right Along

A week before the move, I hopped on the phone with a company representative. I confessed that my partner and I are absolute maximalists. We have everything from a bulky Peloton bike to a prized (and hefty) collection of vinyl records to tiny figurines tucked in every corner. To my surprise, it was no issue. The Piece of Cake team would wrap anything fragile and label each crate with what room it came from for easy identification.

The company offers both cardboard and reusable boxes. I went with the latter, since Piece of Cake will pick them up exactly one week after your move, which I thought would motivate us to unpack speedily. After a trip, I immediately empty my suitcase to start laundry, while my partner can stare at his full carry-on for a day or two, so I knew this would be the best option for us.

“I’m done being a pain in the *ss,” I told my boyfriend after the call. He didn’t agree that my stress was making me temporarily insufferable (smart man), but between sending him multiple listings during working hours or making him go on tours alone when I was busy, I knew I was. He probably secretly let out a sigh of relief, and I did too. Once I knew what the Piece of Cake process looked like, I felt like I’d taken off a weighted vest I hadn’t even known I was wearing, and started to feel excited about this next chapter.

The team started working in our apartment the day before our move. It was like an assembly line: One person wrapping and filling boxes, another stacking, and two people going up and down to the truck outside.

They left our bed, toothbrushes and toothpaste, soaps, and the shower curtain, so we had just enough to get us through one more night in that space. Knowing that we were almost entirely ready to go curbed my anxiety and made it possible to actually get some sleep.

The Labor Litmus Test

Even with help (the company’s services have 4.6 stars on Yelp), the move was still a stressor on our relationship for other reasons. I’m the high-strung one, which was amplified during such a big change, and I could feel myself nagging my boyfriend with all of my “what ifs” and concerns from the moment we decided to find a new place. Per usual, he assured me it would all work out without being patronizing.

While purging, my partner realized just how much my nostalgic tendencies make me keep, well, everything. Turns out, navigating that kind of difference can be a test of compatibility. “Merging items is also a way to judge somebody’s ability to compromise,” says Wendy Walsh, Ph.D., a relationship expert for DatingAdvice.com. I still had clothes from 2016 that I thought might come in handy one day, which I got rid of with a nudge from him, and he diligently walked the seven bags of donations over to the Salvation Army for me. Still, I wouldn’t budge on getting rid of my stacks of old birthday cards. Together, we decided to assign one specific drawer to house all of our keepsakes instead.

Moving into a new space felt like a bigger relationship milestone than becoming roommates because it added a new meaning to teamwork. Sure, there were a few moments of pure exhaustion while we sifted through about 70 pink boxes — the majority of which were my things, as he pointed out after the third crate of jeans — but we figured it out together. There was the moment we realized we didn’t have a microwave and agreed we’d rather use our precious counter space for our coffee station instead, for example.

Moving with a partner comes with a built-in “labor litmus test.”

This collaborative problem-solving was proof of our compatibility. Moving with a partner comes with a built-in “labor litmus test,” according to Walsh. She says, “If one person is standing around watching the other do the work, that’s a big red flag.” He organized the boxes by room while I meticulously unwrapped all of our spices and dishes into the kitchen cabinets, so we passed that test. “If one person is doing the share of labor during the move, this may indicate that it is, in general, a one-sided relationship.” Thankfully, I didn’t feel that way at all, and neither did he.

Finally, when I went to take a shower at the end of moving day, I realized there was no built-in shower rod like at the old place. Instead of letting me crash out, though, my partner immediately ordered a rod on Amazon and said we could take turns holding up the curtain while the other bathed. He’s a foot taller than me, so when it was my turn to do the lifting, we basically just talked face-to-face the whole time while cracking up, saying how one day this would be “the story” we tell people about our first move together. According to my mom, nothing said during a move counts. But what’s said between laughs after a long day with the person you really love? That counts for something.