What does it look like?

Eleven years ago this week I announced on HouseGoesHome that I had met someone.

It was only eight months after my marriage break-up, so technically it should have just been a rebound fling.

Fast forward to 2025 and we’re still dating.

In early November 2014, I confessed that I’d massaged the truth in a previous post, in which I’d fretted about what to do on my first RSVP date and whether to mention the blog.

The post was actually a recap of what happened on our first date. So it was funny to get everyone’s advice on what not to do when I’d already done it.

People said things like: “For god’s sake don’t mention the blog, not yet. And don’t talk about your ex. I reckon it’s ok to indicate you have children (in passing don’t bang on about them) frankly children would be less scary to a bloke than the blog I think.”

And: “Well this is exciting news! Don’t mention the blog. And just remember… he’s probably just as nervous. You relax and let him impress you. Good luck x”

And: “Yep, agreed, don’t mention the blog!”

And: “John says he wouldn’t mention the blog, although if you do…and he responds with a creepy “I know”…run!”

Erm, too late guys – I mentioned the blog.

In fact, I told him I was “kinda infamous.”

I know, I know. But it was true, it had been a very colourful period in my life.

Despite my numerous verbal transgressions over two ciders – including telling him about going viral with a post called ‘Ravished By a Triceratops’ – he asked about another date as we parted.

I replied: “I think you should Google me first.”

Those words actually passed my lips.

Then I got in the car and thought Why the bloody hell did I say that?

I should have waited until the second date (at least) to lay my cards on the table. But it was done. It couldn’t be undone.

He texted later that night to say he was OK with my infamy. Well, he wrote something vaguely along those lines.

I couldn’t scroll back and check his exact words because there had been around three million texts between us since then.

He eventually confessed he hadn’t really understood the scale of my infamy. By the time that he did understand, he was too high on dopamine to think straight.

Ever since that fateful first meeting, our relationship hasn’t followed a traditional path. We didn’t blend families or get engaged or married. Despite all our kids moving out, we still haven’t moved in together.

To be honest, I feel a little conflicted about that. I think we may have left it too late – we may be too accustomed to living alone to ever live together.

Living together would be more cost effective, but we really love having our own space.

Have we made a mistake in being so independent?

I’ve been worrying about what happens when we retire. It’s potentially just a few years away for DD and I think it requires proper planning.

My crystal ball is refusing to let me see what the right move would be.

The lack of clarity has left me terrified that I’m not making the most of my healthy years.

And so I find myself circling back to an old question: “what does happiness look like?”

In the early days of HouseGoesHome I wrote: “Are you happy? Are you unhappy? Are you sure? How can you tell? I think there should be a pill that people take – just once, mid-life – that shows what true happiness feels like. I don’t mean blurry alcohol or drug induced euphoria, with its subsequent hangover and regrets. I’m talking garden-variety, no- frills happiness.

“It would give people perspective. I reckon most people have forgotten how to recognise happiness/unhappiness. Popping a garden-variety happy pill would give clarity. Depressed people would understand they needed counselling/medication. Non-depressed people would recognise that their life is pretty damn good, all things considered.

“A few months ago, I described my emotional state to a friend as ‘approaching contentment, with occasional flashes of joy’. I thought that was as good as it got.”

Hindsight tip: If you need to pop a pill to know if you’re happy … you’re not.

Actually – or is it ironically – the question I should probably be asking is: “what does contentment look like?”

More accurately, what does contentment after full-time work finishes look like?

How do I want to live, with whom, and where?

What is the community that I want to surround me? What are the cornerstones to my days that will spark joy?

One thing I do know is that I would like to be freed from the weight – or imagined weight – of the expectations of others.

A little like that famous Vivian quote: “You don’t own me. I decide, okay? I say who, I say when, I say who…“

And I want to stop feeling so guilty about those decisions.

Song of the day: Kate Bush “Running up that hill”