Perhaps you’ve witnessed this scenario when invited to a get-together: Someone declines for their entire party, but they make the “we” a really big deal. I remember an instance of this in a college chat group a few years ago.
Two friends of ours had started dating, and they were both in the group, invited as individuals. One of them said no, but the message was the equivalent of capitalizing “WE” every time they mentioned it and adding a couple emoji at the end for good measure. At least, that’s what it felt like at the time.
I also remember some folks gossiping about the event later on, and I’m pretty sure I agreed with their take: “It’s fine that you’re a couple now, but it’s not like you’ve grown together at the hip.”
Well, the other day, I was editing an article about my and my fiancée’s trip to Japan, and guess what? I realized I kept writing “we” and “our” all the time. Of course, we were on the holiday together. It wasn’t an “I” trip at any moment—but you, the reader, don’t know that. And unless our togetherness is relevant to the piece, you also won’t care. So if I keep saying “we” and “our” without you even knowing who I mean, that would be hella confusing.
This is not the first time that “we” has snuck into my writing. It’s been happening more since we moved in together, and I guess that makes sense. The more you become a family, the more you’ll think on behalf of everyone rather than just yourself. But it does make for interesting patterns in communication.
For example, whenever I mention our apartment on my blog, I’m tempted to say “our apartment.” It’s not my apartment only, after all. And even if I were to write that, it wouldn’t change the fact that my fiancée pays half the rent. So suddenly, I’d be taking more credit than I deserve. If I was alone, I wouldn’t live in this big and expensive of a flat. It’s our togetherness that makes it possible, so it only feels fair for me to mention. But of course I also don’t want to throw a quick “my partner” into every story just because, especially if the article is about cleaning, not cohabitating.
Was that chat incident way back when someone bragging or just young love? I’ll never know. But I have discovered the point when first person plural simply feels natural, and I must say: No matter how it looks in conversation, it sure feels nice to live as a “we” every day.
