After the wedding, my wife Emily and I settled into married life beautifully. We married with the idea of living with her parents for a while. At the time, my own parents were relocating to the seaside, selling their flat and splitting the proceeds between me and my sister. With that money and a bit extra from my father-in-law, we managed to buy a spacious studio flat in London. We put up a partition wall to make two roomsthinking one might someday be for a child, though it never quite worked out that way.
At first, we simply didnt want one. Then our careers took off, leaving little time. Later, it just didnt happen, and Emily refused to see a doctor. I wasnt particularly keen either. We were happy together, neither of us fretting over whod bring us a glass of water in old age. Our friends with children played a part toodrowning in debt, stressed, hardly the picture of joy. So in the end, we decided we could do without that kind of happiness, since life seemed to steer us this way anyway.
By the time we turned thirty-three, we invested in a flat in Manchester. The sum wasnt enormous, so we took the risk despite warnings. By thirty-seven, it was readyjust a light refurbishment to make it perfect. Emily called it an insurance policyfor children, if they ever came, or else to leave to our nieces and nephews someday.
For now, we decided to rent it out ourselves, skipping an agent. To spread the word, we mentioned it to friends, hoping for advice on where else to advertise. Then came the awkward questioncould they move in? Theyd been stuck in run-down rentals for years, and here was a brand-new flat, freshly done up, maybe even at a “friends’ discount.”
Our mistake, telling them. We never thought theyd want it.
*”Its only one bedroomyour familys too big,”* Emily tried.
*”So? Were in a studio now. From your pictures, yours looks bigger.”*
*”But its new, and youve got kids and that dog of yours.”*
*”What, you think were slobs wholl wreck the place?”*
We said wed think about it, though Id already made up my mind. Id seen their placechaos everywhere. In the end, Emily left it to me to call and refuse, with some flimsy excuse.
The reply?
*”Youve got a second flat, your parents will leave you theirs one day, and still its not enough? Youll rot in those empty flatsno kids, no friends, no joy in your lives!”*
Was that fair? We owe them nothing. Their choiceskids without the means, no family supportarent our problem. Everyone lives as they please. Why shouldnt we rent to a stranger at full price instead of bending over backwards for friends?
