Home alone is the lifestyle for me

I HAVE an unpopular opinion for someone in their mid-20s: I love living alone.

As my social group grew more financially independent and become better at “adulting”, we began moving out in droves.

A popular option was moving in with a group in a trendy suburb brimming with flannelwearing hipsters and overpriced smashed avocado dishes.

But as the hangovers from housewarmings faded, cracks often began to appear in these sharehouses populated with people who may enjoy the odd drink together but should probably not live together.

I probably could have moved out with friends during my university years, but having spent my teenage years at boarding school, I’d had enough roommates to last a lifetime. I was haunted by one year in a room with 12 other girls, sleeping fitfully as a chorus of loud snoring echoed through the dormitory.

When my time to move out came and I took off solo for another state to take up a job, hitting up Gumtree to find a selection of random people to start my new life with was the last thing on my agenda. I moved into a home on my own, revelling in the fact I could do whatever I wanted without my siblings interrupting my peace and quiet. Since that time, I’ve become something of an advocate for living alone. When my friends confide in me about their latest sharehouse dramas, I can’t help but feel slightly smug. Many of them have learnt a valuable lesson: just because you enjoy grabbing a latte together doesn’t mean you should live together. Some people think living in a share house in your younger years is something of a rite of passage.

But after the awkward friendship deteriorations I’ve seen, often triggered by disputes about the most innocuous of domestic tasks, I’m very grateful I decided to go at it alone — even if that means my current living situation involves a poky studio apartment with a humming fridge mere metres from my bed, which often interrupts my sleep.

My advice if you’re tempted to live alone but think it could be boring or lonely is give it a try — there’s nothing quite like having no one to answer to.

But years of paying rent have meant that at the end of the year I’ll be a “boomerang baby” and move back in with my parents and boisterous brothers to save for my own house.

Now that should be interesting.