This morning V. and myself came out of our respective bedrooms in the morning, after having had an amicable dinner together that lasted until late hours. I drank enough wine to feel a slight hangover in the morning. I had checked my email earlier, and I was selected in the candidature to the tiny home I had liked. I expressed some doubts, because I had an appointment the same day for what seemed a more expensive but still good deal in Lavapiés.

Vicky said that I lost nothing by visiting the other place. I said “meh, I’m not sure, if I like it I doubt it will be available for me immediately, I’d have to exchange something sure for something unsure, I’d rather keep what I have now and not look at it. Besides, it could just give buyer’s remorse, the eternal “what would have happened if” just by looking at the alternative. I didn’t need to see the other place.

But she was adamant and took things personally by saying that I never tried hard enough, that I gave up too easily, that I was being lazy. I raised my eyebrows with a smile and said something to the effect of “well that’s a very direct confrontation”. We went back and forth a bit and I noticed myself squeezing out of what is true in that statement, but also justifiably bothered by her lack of tact in addressing her feedback.

I was in the bathroom when she said goodbye to leave for work. I left later, thinking about what she had said. “Those are not the manners”, “What does she think she’s doing”, “what does this mean?” that sort of stuff gave way to a certain feeling of truth because the words had hurt. If I knew myself to make an effort, to go hard, and to not give up so easily on the pretense of “going with the flow”, then it would not have hurt. Perhaps, if “going with the flow” was actually a core principle I’d be able to call it out immediately and justify my behavior with well considered words. But that was not the case, I recognize I do not go out for what I want, even if I desire it a lot.

I was thinking these things as I was biking without finding much peace when the answer presented itself: she’s right in the general, wrong in this particular case. I’m not being lazy or soft in my search for a place, this home aligns much better with what I need now: saving money and having a practical lifestyle. I confess to the world (but not to her) that any aspiration above cheap clean practical place is thought in the context of bringing a woman home. I have paid more than I wanted in rent for this aspiration that has brought me nothing but fantasies. I lived in the perfect place for this during 13 months, yet it never happened.

Here lies a recursive possibility: that I’m withdrawing from the game not having tried hard enough. Oh it’s here where it hurts, noted. I’ll give it more thought later, I’ll stick to the thread:

I finally felt things come together when both aspects were right: it’s correct that I give up too easily, and it’s correct that this is the right home to rent at this moment. When I arrived to work I sent my documentation immediately along with my initial fees, and I agreed to meet with the landlord after work.

He explained a couple of things about the place and we chatted a bit. It turns out he has a crypto exchange service which looks legit (but I won’t link due to the ease in finding the backlink). He set me up a table with two Ikea chairs and took away an ugly sofa. We signed the contract and he gave me the keys. I walked to the park a block away and found myself under mild bowel discomfort (I could make it home for sure), but I thought I should come back to the apartment to “inaugurate” the bathroom.

After emptying myself, I pulled out the computer and opened the window to the street. It’s wonderful that it is ground floor entrance directly from the sidewalk. I wanted to take a photo but I wouldn’t publish my address, so instead of the street I’m showing you the ground floor. Upstairs is the bedroom at half the height.