I’m 30, and I have no plans to ever buy a house — not because I can’t afford one, but because I don’t want to.
My partner — who is 31 — and I prefer renting studios and moving around every few months. For us, that feels freer and more intentional than taking on a mortgage. While many of our friends are decorating new homes with fall wreaths and pumpkin-scented candles, I’m packing for my 50th country — and renting just a small room.
We’ve talked about buying a house before, but it never made sense for the way we live. We both work remotely, and we love the flexibility of choosing where to go next. A house would root us in one place and tie up our money in something we’re not sure we even want in the long term.
Living small, on the other hand, lets us spend less and experience more.
We’re choosing not to buy a house
I grew up in large houses that looked impressive but felt empty. My parents owned properties with multiple bedrooms that no one used, and I remember hearing constant conversations about maintenance costs, taxes, and repairs.
Watching that, I realized early on that homeownership didn’t automatically equal comfort or security.
For many people, buying a house is a sign of stability or success. For me, it’s a burden I would rather not bear. I see big houses as having more rooms to clean, more money spent on furniture, and more energy wasted.
My version of stability comes from having control over my time and money, not from owning property.
When I met my partner, he dreamed of buying a home one day. But over time, he realized it didn’t align with how we live or what we value. We don’t know where we’ll want to settle, and investing in a house would only limit us. Instead, we invest in travel, experiences, and each other.
I prefer to travel light and live tiny
My boyfriend and I’s decision to rent small spaces fits perfectly with our lifestyle. We travel frequently, and staying in tiny apartments or studios keeps things simple.
I don’t own many pieces of furniture or other possessions. My way of slowly breaking up with capitalism is by borrowing items from neighbors, getting creative with how I use my space, and making decorations from art classes I take.
It’s my quiet way of pushing back against consumerism and focusing on what actually adds value to my life.
Living tiny encourages connection with my neighbors
When I once rented a closet-sized room in a co-living space, I had to get creative. That tiny setup pushed me to spend more time with my neighbors and made me realize how fulfilling community living could be.
Our favorite place so far has been a studio with a pull-down bed. My partner and I both worked from home, and when we needed more space, we’d go to the library or a café.
The kitchen was small, but I still hosted monthly dinners and even fit 15 friends for my birthday. On Thanksgiving, I borrowed plates and chairs from neighbors, who were also my guests.
That kind of resourcefulness and connection made the space feel richer than any large house could.
Living tiny gives me freedom
I don’t feel tied to a mortgage, a location, or the pressure to fill rooms with things I don’t need. My home is wherever we unpack our suitcases, cook something simple, and fill the air with the smell of baked desserts.
If I bought a house, I’d lose that sense of mobility and creativity that comes from constantly adapting to new spaces.
Each small space reminds me that success doesn’t have to look like ownership or permanence. I’m happy living in a tiny space, not because it’s trendy or frugal, but because it’s my idea of happiness.
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