Do you remember last year, where I had so much time on my hands that it allowed me to write daily on here? Yeah, me neither.
there’s a number of reasons for the radio silence on here, of which the most important one is my job. I can not even begin to describe how different my life looks from a year ago, where – around this time – I started to actually consider the possibility of moving back to Belgium.
I always thought that ‘writing’ was the sole thing that would make me happy in life, the happiest I could be, that is. It was a dream and the answer to the question you’d inevitably hear during times of job-distress: “what do you want to do?”
“Write!” I woud think and say. Only to be confronted with the dilemma so many people in pursuit of making a career out of artistry: what about the money? And the time? And all the good luck you obviously need to actually land whatever deal it is to get you to that point of self-sustainabilty.
I still ponder about that, though. How cool it would be to write on SNL. How amazing it would be to see my name printed on a Kindle screen. But it’s not that important anymore, because I actually love my job. And not just because I’m currently able to put 1800$ a month towards my debt, and actually SAVE money, too. (note: that’s not just because all of a sudden I make a shitload of money, it’s also because I moved last summer and saved 700$ on rent).
But yeah, I do love my job, and with that, I learned that there’s no such thing as a certain passion in life. Passion is for grabs, peeps, and today is as good as any to find a new one.
In my case, it’s not so much “a new one” as it is a sum of who I am. I always loved history – in any form: art, architecture, culture and politics: it’s wonderful how every event in history is intertwined with everything. I may not be writing a lot of stories these days, but there are many in my daily life. And so I find myself not so much at design events anymore, drinking cheap vodka out of plastic cups while filling my stomach with lobster rolls… I attend lectures about Neo-gothisism and Palladian architecture instead. I read about all the French Louis’, from XIV to XVI. About the Federal Style and what “colonial” really stands for.
It’s a hoot, really.
But more than my shameless tale about how I re-invented a passion in my life, I’m sure you wonder whatever happened with the guy and that money talk.
Well, the money spoke and now my lower rent is cut in half, because we moved in together.
I know. Mind-blowing.
To shortly recap, it’s a typical boy-meets-girl-on-tinder story. Only that this guy wasn’t so much interested in a hookup as any other Tinder encounter I had had. This guy actively pursued me, rather old-fashioned, even.
On the third date, he bomb-shelled me with the information of a previous marriage (“separated”, was the exact term, which I should have googled on the spot, because I now know that’s not even close to “divorced”.) and four kids. By all means, do wonder why I didn’t run at that exact point, because that’s what I do too (and him, too, for that matter).
7 months later, we live together and split the rent and bills. Which, seeing that in writing, seems awfully soon, but against my very expectations, nobody has really questioned it – to my face at least.
His divorce is still ongoing, and I managed to keep that part of his life far, far away from me. I don’t mingle, I don’t want to know about fights and arguments about the house. Quite frankly, I don’t really care, as long as it doesn’t take all that long anymore, since we’ve been holding off on introducing his four kids to me until things are final, and, well, my head can’t really wrap around the understanding of what four kids means. And when he says that at some point, 1 or 2 might even want to come live with us… all I think about is how that will work, logistically, since the apartment only has one bedroom, and I can’t even imagine what a 2 bedroom must cost in this city (which, of course, I’m not planning to leave.)
Truth be told, I’m not all that worried about all that, because my life feels fairly fitting at this point, and I love my job. The importance of that is enormous. A year ago, even the thought of 1 kid and a guy while dealing with a Horrible-Boss-Situation, would have had me burst into tears.
What is nagging a bit in the back of my mind, nibbling at that edge of reason, is the fact that his financial state is worse than mine ever was, bad credit score and everything. Which had me decided that I shouldn’t pin wedding dresses on Pinterest just yet.
Part of me sometimes worries about the rush of moving in together might have been just that: a rush. For him to have an affordable roof over his head during times of uttermost distress. For me to up my debt-contribution to a level that has te be called “aggressive”.
But, and this is going to sound new-agey, I remember the moment where he told me about the separation and the kids that broken marriage came along with. Because even when the air was sucked out of my lungs and I eagerly stared at the corner, forcing Ashton Kutcher to jump around it yelling “you got punk’d!”, I knew that I was right where I needed to be, and this person was right who I needed to be with.
And thus, the conclusion of this post is this: I don’t know what’s going to happen with the relationship, but I feel I’m doing the right thing.
PS: I will try to find a certain frequency in writing again, an write more in depth posts about my job, finances, and love-life