The Deer Never Even Considered Inviting Sergei to Move In. Dating Was One Thing, But Living Together? That Was a Whole Different Story.

Helen would never have dreamed of asking Simon to move in with her. Dating was one thing, but living together? That was completely different. On Saturday, Helen was waiting for Simon for their usual walk. She opened the door and nearly faintedthere he was, standing with two massive suitcases.

Helen sat in her armchair, flipping through photos on her phone. Here they were in the park, feeding ducks. Here they were strolling together. And this one was from their mushroom-picking trip. Six months of knowing each other had flown by unnoticed.

Theyd met on a dating site. She was sixty-one, he was sixty-three. Both divorced, with grown-up kids living their own lives.

Simon had caught her eye straight awaycultured, well-read, with a dry sense of humour. He wasnt looking for a mother for his kids or a housekeeper. Just someone interesting to share conversations with.

They met two or three times a weektheatre trips, gallery visits, cosy cafés, city walks, weekends at her friends countryside cottage. Helen liked the easy, commitment-free closeness they had.

Helen, tell me how you live, Simon had asked early on, after one of their meetings.

Quietly, peacefully. Ive been on my own five years nowIm used to it.

Dont you get lonely?

Sometimes. But Ive got friends, my daughters visit. And now Ive got you.

Thats nice to hear.

Since his divorce, Simon had been renting a tiny flat in an old building. He complained about his fussy landlady, the lack of repairs, and the rent going up all the time.

What can I do? hed say. No place of my own. After the split, everything went to my ex. Her parents bought that flat, and good luck proving I paid for the renovations.

Ever thought about buying somewhere?

Where would I get that kind of money?

Helen understood. She had a three-bedroom place in a nice part of townearned over a lifetime. Her daughters had their own lives, so there was plenty of room.

But it never crossed her mind to invite Simon to move in. Dating was finesharing a home? No.

That Saturday, Helen opened the door to Simon standing there with his suitcases.

Simon, whats happened?

Helen, can I come in? Ill explain.

They stepped inside. He left the suitcases in the hall and sat on the sofa.

The landladys selling the flat. Gave me a week to move out.

So what now?

Now Ive got nowhere to go. Cant find another place straight away, and the moneys tight.

Helen saw where this was going.

Helen, Ive been thinkingweve got something serious here. Six months together, we know each other. Why not try living together?

Together? she repeated.

Yeah. Youve got three bedroomsplenty of space. Im not a freeloader, Ill chip in for food and bills.

Simon, weve never even discussed this.

Why would we? Lifes sorted it for us.

Helen felt flustered. She wasnt ready for this.

Simon, I need to think.

Whats to think? We love each other.

Loving someone and living with them arent the same thing.

Why not? At our age, its time to decide.

Decide what?

Where this is going. If were together, we should *be* together.

She glanced at the suitcases. So hed made the decision for her, brought his things, and expected her to fall in line.

What if I say no?

No to what? No to being happy?

No to someone turning up uninvited with all their belongings.

Helen, dont be angry. I didnt mean it like that. Its just how things worked out.

Things dont work out. People make choices.

Whats that supposed to mean?

It means you shouldve talked to me *before* packing your life into suitcases.

Simon went quiet, thinking.

Fine. Then lets talk now. Im asking you to live with me.

And Im saying no.

Why?

Because I like my space. I like what we have, but I dont want to share a home.

But why? Were good together.

For dates, walks, weekendsyes. Not for daily life.

Whats the difference?

Daily life is *every* day. Habits, routines, compromises.

So? Wed adjust.

Thats just itI dont *want* to adjust. Im happy as I am.

Simon looked crushed.

Helen, what if I asked you to marry me?

Why?

Why? To make it proper.

Simon, marriage wouldnt change anything. I still wouldnt want to live together.

Then whats the point of us?

The same as before. We see each other, talk, spend time together.

And then what?

Then we keep doing that.

Thats not serious!

Why not? It works for me.

Not for me. I want stability.

What kind? she asked, sitting across from him.

The normal kind. A home. Waking up together, making plans.

And I dont want daily breakfasts with anyone. I dont want to fit into someone elses plans.

But youre *alone!*

Im not. Ive got my daughters, my friends, and Ive got you. Being alone and choosing solitude arent the same.

I dont get the difference.

The difference is, right now, I choose who I see and when. If we lived together, that choice disappears.

Helen, at sixty, we should be thinking about wholl be there when were old.

I *am* thinking. Doesnt have to be a husband.

Then who?

My daughters. Carers. Social services. There are options.

Thats not the same!

Maybe not for you. It is for me.

Simon stood and paced.

So youre saying I should keep renting and only see you on weekends?

Im saying live how you want. Well meet when we both feel like it.

And if I cant afford rent?

Thats your problem, not mine.

Thats harsh, Helen.

No, its honest. Im not responsible for fixing your life.

But were together!

Were dating. So? That doesnt make me accountable for you.

Simon sat back down, silent.

Helen, if I find a place will we still see each other?

Of course. If we both want to.

And until then could I stay here a while?

No.

At all?

At all.

He realised she meant it. Picked up his suitcases and headed for the door.

So Ill need to find a home *and* a new relationship.

Maybe.

Helen wont you regret this?

No.

Simon left. He never called again. Helen went back to her quiet life without him. At sixty, she valued peace over romance, freedom over company.

What would you have done? Let us know in the comments.