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"We're still in Hong Kong," we said in unison as we passed that corner fruit stand again--the one that sells those amazing Mango Sago concoctions that kept me locked in the bathroom for 10 minutes every single night.

Somehow, during our five-day stay in Hong Kong, saying "We're still in Hong Kong" became a tradition. It was sort of saying that we're far away from work, judging eyes (the same eyes that would subtly monitor whether I'd be giving birth in nine months), and everything familiar.

It was almost a test phase for us, to see if we could actually survive living under one roof. For five days, we roamed Kowloon and Hong Kong City, took the cable car to Ngong Ping Village, took the tram up the highest point in the city, and went nuts in Hong Kong Disneyland and Mongkok. For five whole days, we learned how to keep track of our expenses, look after ourselves, and find another guest house--without prior reservations--in the span of two hours. We realized that, damn, we could actually make this living arrangement work.

The conservative part of my life felt like, well, another lifetime ago. I almost couldn't remember when the liberated thoughts filled my head and every part of my body. No one in my old life would ever believe that I've no problems living under one roof with my boyfriend.

I could almost hear my mother and her downright conservative (read: super old-fashioned) friends wondering just when I became this liberated. I mean, come on, how would you ever know if you can actually live together when you're bound and tied in matrimony--when you've no chance to back out and realize you can't survive with each other? Don't they say that marriage isn't a trial-and-error thing?

When we were in Hong Kong, I learned that we could live together, that we complement each other. We could survive with each other.

But, at the same time, I realized that I don't want it yet.

No, even when the opportunity arises, I don't want it...yet. I still want my freedom. I still want to go at my own pace. I want my own place. When we were in Hong Kong, Logan realized the same thing, and for the first time, I didn't feel hurt that he, too, doesn't want this kind of permanent sleeping situation.

We're both just not ready to share our queen-sized beds just yet.

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