My friend K. is a few years older than me and, in this case, does a bit of a thing, gay and single. A few months ago he made a prophecy to me on the late evening of my wedding. It will go with me soon as with all the other heterosexuals from his circle of friends, the same eternal pattern: marriage, children, get fatter, from the city center to the outskirts, eventually move to the countryside. So soon there will not be much going on with me. Bottom up!
His prophecy was not particularly prophetic insofar as I had been a father for a long time that evening, and also fatter. And as far as the rest was concerned, I thought, K was mistaken: that would not happen so fast with us and this famous row house "outside"! Where one would then feverishly explain to the once and never again visiting friends that because of the rapid-transit railway one nevertheless "really fast" in the city center and the peace out here honestly a benevolence, the Italians ten minutes from here quite decent, You could go great in the adjacent forest, and down here, by the way, light, was the "hobby cellar".
Not with me, I thought.
Recently, however, every morning I get a jab of e-mails from apartment search portals. "Charming cottage in an attractive location" is there in the subject, or "family-friendly house in the countryside". Every time these mails pop up, I see a lawnmower get out of a shed and get very scared. Only a few months after the wedding, we are seriously considering moving to the suburbs. How could that happen?
It was a kind of triple stroke. There came, as a first, a small inheritance, large enough, after all, to theoretically times to think about the down payment for a real estate loan. One could, one suddenly thinks, theoretically yes times look around - no longer rent, but pay off? Maybe reasonable? Retirement! Sweating.
Next came the summer, and with it a whole horde of drunks immediately moved into our bedroom, or to the balconies of the neighboring house, with which our bedroom shares the courtyard. The balconies belong now to downed, dirt cheap apartments near the party, as you rented as an Irish rugby team or Hessian bachelor party very happy, and we learn from the bed that Freddy, good man, has brought the Boombox, and look to 4 o'clock in the morning Gzuz is still good for him to come down, while Tommy, * rofl *, pukes right into the living room.
Honestly, we have to move.
The last blow came when, for the first two reasons, I listlessly opened the real estate scout and looked at what is being offered in our area. This is either the "Altbautraum", which reads easily and unfortunately more correctly than "nightmare construction", so ground floor on the main artery, two of the three rooms are particularly good, they even have windows, and the gem costs only a little over a million. Or "penthouse apartment with sauna and roof terrace", four rooms, 180 square meters, fireplace, two and a half million, yes, but immediately we take the, of course, only - how?
So do not buy what else to rent nearby? In recent years, the prices here, of course, so attracted that after paying the rent can not visit a restaurant or theater, let alone take a drink, but because of such things you do not live in the city center, or, right now, yes, yes, actually because of such things, so somehow would be stupid.
It seems we, who have moved into our homes as bachelors, non-parents, non-elders, have for too long meant that money should not matter in the lives of decent people and that Berlin will always be cheap anyway. Fool.
And so apparently nothing leads past the way out of the city. In the periphery , where everything is not so important. Or - oh, the place is not sooo bad, and by 2089 the thing is paid off - but the old building space?
(Real estate offers always like to email@example.com)