I’ve always dreamed of having a huge farm in a small town. One of those tiny towns where everyone knows each other. The kind of country living where your neighbor helps you out for no reason at all. Where maybe people aren’t very scholarly or college educated, but they know everything there is to know about their profession, whether that may be growing crops or breeding horses, and there are more wide open fields than houses.
As a kid, I hadn’t ever thought of what I wanted my house to look like. I could draw you a detailed map of my dream barn and dream acreage, dream pastures and outdoor arena and cross country field and the riding trails within riding distance. I spent my school days designing my future farm and daydreaming about my life as a horse trainer (when I wasn’t reading under my desk).
As I grew up, my farm plans dwindled from a hundred acres with multiple fields and at least twenty five stalls of varying sizes, the barn shaped like a U, to a smaller scale farm, with maybe just enough room for ten horses.
As it stands now, I only want a pasture for my four kids and enough space for an outdoor riding ring. A run in is necessary, a barn is not.
I am so sick of looking at houses that right now, I want to lease a field and pull up a camper. I would be happy in a tiny space- it’s less to clean, anyway. I’m actually seriously considering it, but I don’t know if I can convince The Boyfriend that putting all the stuff we don’t need in a storage locker and living on a seriously small scale is a good thing.
Opposites really do attract, and not only is my man materialistic, he also has a tendency to go for the most expensive. He lives literally paycheck to paycheck, paying his half of everything and then totally blowing the rest within days while I sit on my money like a dragon guarding her pile of riches.
But I’ve had everything I own in storage for the past four months, and other than seriously missing having my books right in front of me, I’m no worse for wear. And we hardly use anything in the apartment anyway. We never sit on the couch, ever, we use the dining room table as a place to pile our laundry, and the only use the desk in the bedroom gets is from the cats sunbathing on it. My couches and dining room table and chairs and bed set and EVERYTHING is already in storage, and we hardly need two sets of everything. So maybe we sell some things, but then when we do get that house, we’ll just have to go furniture shopping and spend more money on new furniture than we got from selling the old.
So my next line of thought… The thought I should not be thinking… Is even if Boyfriend doesn’t agree with my camper plan, should I do it anyway? I can support myself- I always have- and I’ve always been happiest living alone. To tell the truth, he’s my first ever boyfriend. I’ve never wanted one before, and never thought I would have one, but he was so stubborn for so long that I just sort of gave in. And I love him, I do, but I’ve always been the kind of independent bitch who puts her career waaaaaay before any man. So do I put my desires before his? The answer is yes… But if my answer is yes that quickly and unequivocally, then does that mean I shouldn’t even be with him in the first place? Would we both be better off if I could go back to my solitary style of living? It’s not like we argue- we’ve actually never had an argument before- or fight. We get along better than any other couple on the face of the earth, and I think it’s sometimes because I just lack the feelings towards him that other people have for their significant others. I don’t get jealous or possessive or clingy because I literally do not possess those feelings for another human being.
As happy as we are, I sometimes feel like we can’t possibly be headed anywhere. As often as he talks about marriage, and I go along with it, I can’t even really see us lasting nearly that long. Sometimes, I think I just stay with him because it’s simpler. He’s like a roommate I sleep with. I probably shouldn’t even post this, especially since I have gone waaaaay off topic from what I had wanted to write about, but no one who’ll ever read this will ever know me, so why not, I suppose.