“I want a child and stability, but he calls me a ‘boring old woman.’
Antony and I have been together for five years. We met by chance—he gave me a lift when I was hitchhiking on the motorway. Since then, we’ve hardly been apart. What brought us together was a shared love of freedom, the thrill of the open road, and the romance of unpredictable adventures. Backpacks, hitchhiking, endless highways—that was our way of life, our passion. But as it turns out, passion can fade over time. At least, for one of us.
There was a time when I lived purely for the moment. I never thought about the future, plans, or savings. All that mattered was adventure, excitement, music, and the never-ending road. But now… now I feel exhausted by this chaotic existence. My desires have changed. I long for peace, a family, a child. I want to wake up in my own bed next to the man I love, not in strangers’ tents or cheap hostels. I’ve grown up.
Our old friends, the ones we used to roam the country with, have long settled down. Some married, some had kids, others got mortgages and country cottages. They traded their backpacks for prams, their road trips for playgrounds. Meanwhile, we’re still on the move, with no clear plan, no idea where we’re headed or when we’ll stop.
A lot has changed for me. I finished my master’s degree, found a job in my field, and recently got a promotion with a pay rise. I finally feel like my life has purpose, stability, and prospects.
I can’t just drop everything and dash off on a trip anymore. I have responsibilities—holidays need planning, my boss expects reports. And try explaining why I didn’t answer calls all Sunday because we’d hitched a ride with a lorry driver and spent the day in the middle of nowhere with no signal.
I’m not complaining. I’m grateful for my job. It’s demanding, but it gives back—good pay, security. I don’t want to lose that. But Antony… Antony’s angry. He says I’ve become boring, that I’ve turned into ‘an old woman with a planner and a notepad,’ that I’m nothing like the wild girl he once met. He hates that I’ve become ‘systematic.’ He even hinted that if I keep this up, we’re on different paths. Him or the job, he says.
Last July, we went on a big trip—drove all the way to Glastonbury for a music festival. I hadn’t expected it to be so amazing—the atmosphere, the music, the people, total madness! We stayed two days longer than planned, and in the end, I had to rush back alone—by train, with multiple connections, because work wouldn’t wait.
Antony was hurt. But he’s his own boss—works remotely, carries his laptop everywhere, and can go wherever he pleases. The price of that freedom is high, though—he earns less than me, and it’s unreliable. When that weighs on him, he picks fights, nags, and dramatically ‘rides off into the sunset.’
Just last week—he packed his stuff and left for Turkey. His old schoolmate lives in Izmir. He only called me from the border. Didn’t even say goodbye properly.
It broke my heart. I was furious, but I stayed quiet. Now I’m just waiting for him to come back. I don’t want to argue—I want to talk. To ask: how much longer can we live like this? No plans, no foundation, no direction. I’m not willing to chase the wind forever.
I’m not writing this just to vent. I’m writing because I hope his mum reads it. She’s a wise woman, though strict. She’s always said only I can ground him, that if I settle, he’ll settle too. She’s begged—’Stop running, and he’ll stop with you.’ She’s tired of worrying—who we’re with, where we sleep, what trouble we get into. And above all… she wants a grandchild.
You know, I can’t disagree with her. But she’s wrong about one thing—I can’t change her son. No one can, unless he wants to.
And a child… I want one too. But not out of obligation, not as a rebellion. Only when he’s ready. When he understands that happiness isn’t found on the road. Happiness is at home, in love, in knowing we’ll still be together tomorrow.”
