At 27, my mid-twenties are over. What could this possibly mean for my life?
On social media, as I approach 30, my algorithm presents me with a set menu of lifestyle options, like I’m a character in a “choose your own adventure” video game. Some influencers advise me to become a total health nut (to embrace longevity and reject my own mortality), others recommend settling down into domestic bliss (by staking my white picket fence in the suburbs). Another option is to hit a hard “reset” on life by fleeing the continent to somewhere south of the equator.
Sadly, I lack the self-discipline to self-optimise, experience too much existential dread to entertain the idea of a nuclear family, and don’t have the financial means to quit my job and jet off to Australia. And I have no interest in adopting padel, sobriety, saunas or marathon-running as a new personality trait.
Perhaps none of these options feel like a good fit because they are all hand-me-downs from my millennial predecessors. Sure, they’re well-worn and well-loved, but I’m in the market for something new.
Amid numerous crises (the cost of living, climate change, unaffordable housing, youth unemployment etc), I believe gen Z will have to find new ways of living. Unprecedented times demand unconventional solutions and I am about to make my first unusual life choice—moving in with my boyfriend and another couple. As I write this, I am intermittently refreshing Rightmove, where my saved search supplies me with a fresh batch of three-bedroom, east London properties within a budget of £3,000-£4,000 per month.
The decision to move in with another couple happened naturally. My partner and I had never really had any proper conversations about cohabitation, as we weren’t sure we could afford it, or had yet reached that stage in life. But when my best friend and his wife told us they were looking for somewhere new, it felt like the perfect opportunity to combine forces. With four incomes, we stand a far better chance of getting more bang for our buck in London’s hellish rental market.
When I explain my soon-to-be living situation to colleagues or friends, their reactions often follow a path from excitement to confusion. They are delighted that I am moving in with my partner, but puzzled when I say that my best friend and his wife will also be living with us. Many of my friends know I am ethically non-monogamous, so I have to quickly clarify that, no, this isn’t some new-fangled gen Z polycule—just two couples living under one roof.
Their reactions make me feel the need to justify my decision more broadly, so I have a pre-prepared spiel that explains the three reasons for my choice. The first is that house searching as a four is more affordable, and the second is that I want to continue living with friends. The third may be controversial—put bluntly, I want to keep my own bedroom! Call me selfish, but I like my own space, and I know for a fact that my partner’s minimalist aesthetic won’t gel with my own trinket-heavy maximalism.
Yes, I am ready to “play house” with my partner, but no, I am not ready to commit to sharing a bed every single night. I want a space where I can aesthetically call the shots and that I can spiritually call my own. I also do not want the financial precarity that comes with sharing a room and thus committing to a lower rent. What if we break up? I’ve read countless horror stories of the millennial couples who broke up but couldn’t afford to move out and were thus stuck between two options: boomerang back to the family home or remain in purgatory, sharing your living space with your ex. And in terms of moving on and dating new people, both are total boner killers.
None of what I’ve described follows the traditional path: meet, date, move into an apartment with your partner, get married, have children etc. This formula assumes the primacy of romantic relationships above all else—a model where a couple becomes the core foundation of a nuclear household. But what if I want to maintain friendships as one of my top priorities? What if I need my own space? What if I’ll never be able to build a traditional family unit with my partner?
In an increasingly uncertain world, I think it makes perfect sense for my generation to pioneer new ways of living. I, for one, am ready to take the path less trodden to a room of my own.
