So, I mentioned a couple of blog entries ago that I was going to talk to J. about buying that condo together. Well, I did. Before that though, I thought about it further and decided that I really wasn’t ready to take the financial plunge of buying a place together. I may trust that we last a long time, but I don’t want to risk the money. What IF we break up? Then what happens to our condo? What happens to the money? Putting money into a place when you haven’t even dated more than a year is kind of risky.
We talked that evening and we came to the agreement that we’d rent for a year or so until we were more comfortabe with our relationship. Or until it is more socially acceptable to buy a place haha…
But, then comes the next struggle. I think J. is quite happy living at home. He has a good set up; he doesn’t pay rent and his parents cook, clean and do his laundry for him. I guess I also have a good set up, except that I don’t get along with my parents at all and am desperate to leave. The problem then? Well, he’s not in a rush to look. In fact, he hasn’t looked once since we talked to each other about it and that was almost a month ago. I’ve looked. A lot.
The thing is, I feel like I put aside my dream of home ownership (and more importantly, a home away from my parents) for him. I thought we could rent together and then I’d get both things that I want. He’s just so comfortable with not moving… I’m not sure this is going to happen at all. I feel like we’ll be dating a full year or more before we move into a place togheter. That in itself isn’t an issue; it’s just that I’ve been looking to move out on my own for over a year now. It’s actually closing in on 2.5 years now.
A part of me wonders if I should have just gone for that place on my own. Sure my budget would be tight (I’d only be saving 800$ per month, or less). Still, at least I would have something that was my own. It’s like I told Pris, I don’t feel like I have a place of my own. Even my room… My mom will just invite herself in whenever she wants. They come in and move my stuff around to ‘clean’, but then everything is all over th eplace and I don’t know where stuff is. On top of that, my mom’s memory is so bad she doesn’t remember even going into my room – even if it’s clear she has.
I’m fed up. I want my own place. I want a home.
I just wish he would understand me.