As luck would have it, Ive always been someone who sets clear goals and goes after them. By the time I turned 25, I had managed to buy my own flat entirely on my own.
I never had any help from my parents or relatives; I earned every penny myself. Then I met a man I truly fell for, and in a moment of naivete, I let slip that I owned my own place.
Despite that, I made it clear from the outset that I wasnt interested in living at his flat. We agreed that he would sort us out with somewhere to rent together, while I would rent out my flat to save up for a car.
He went along with this plan, assuring me hed soon have enough saved for rent and wed move in together. But half a year later, he turned up at my doorstep with a suitcase in hand, saying he’d just lost his job and had no money.
He asked to stay with me for a while. Well, luckily for him, hes got his own parents. No, I didnt let him move in. I honestly think it was just an excuse to sponge off me, nothing more. I ended things with him there and then.
