A 63-year-old man with no home of his own. After six months of dating, he showed up at my door with suitcases: “It’s time for us to live together”…
Elena sat in her armchair, scrolling through photos on her phone. Here they were feeding ducks in the park, here they were strolling through the city, and this was their mushroom-picking trip together. Six months of knowing Sergey had flown by unnoticed.
They had met on a dating site. She was sixty-one, he was sixty-three. Both were divorced, their children were grown and lived separately. Elena liked Sergey right away—intelligent, well-read, and with a good sense of humor. He was not looking for a mother for his children or a housekeeper. He simply wanted companionship with an interesting person.
They saw each other two or three times a week. Sometimes they went to the theater, sometimes to an exhibition hall. Cafés, walks around the city, trips to her friend’s dacha. Elena liked this kind of relationship—without obligations, yet with emotional closeness.
“Lena, tell me, how do you live?” Sergey asked after one of their dates early in their relationship.
“Fine. Quietly, peacefully. I’ve been living alone for five years already, I’m used to it.”
“Don’t you get lonely?”
“Sometimes. But I have friends, my daughters visit me. And now I have you too.”
“That’s nice to hear.”
After the divorce, Sergey rented a one-room apartment in an old building. He complained that the landlady was difficult, never made repairs, and kept raising the rent.
“But what can I do?” he would say. “I don’t have a place of my own. After the divorce, everything stayed with my ex-wife. Her parents had bought that apartment for her once, and the fact that I paid for all the renovations out of my own pocket—there’s no way to prove that now.”
“Have you ever thought about buying something for yourself?” Elena asked.
“Where would I get that kind of money for an apartment?”
Elena understood. She had a three-room apartment in a good neighborhood—she had worked her whole life to earn it. Her daughters had long since moved out, so there was plenty of space.
But it never even crossed the woman’s mind to invite Sergey to move in with her. Dating was one thing, living together was something else entirely.
On Saturday, Elena was waiting for Sergey for their usual walk. She opened the door—and froze. He was standing there with two large suitcases.
“Sergey, what happened?” the woman asked.
“Lena, can I come in? I’ll explain.”
They went into the room. Sergey left the suitcases in the hallway and sat down on the couch.
“You see, the landlady decided to sell the apartment. She told me I have to move out within a week.”
“And what now?”
“And now I have nowhere to live. You can’t find another apartment that quickly, and I don’t have money for the deposit.”
Elena was beginning to understand where this was heading.
“Lena, I thought—our relationship is serious, isn’t it? We’ve been seeing each other for six months, we know each other well. Maybe it’s time we tried living together?..
Elena settled into her armchair and slowly flipped through the photos on her phone. In one picture, she and Sergey were standing by a pond feeding ducks; in another, they were walking through an autumn park; and then there was a shot from their mushroom-picking trip together. She smiled involuntarily: only six months had passed since they met, yet it felt as though they had known each other much longer.
They had met through a dating site. Elena was sixty-one at the time, and Sergey was sixty-three. Both had gone through a divorce, and both had adult children who had long since built lives of their own. Sergey immediately made a pleasant impression on her: intelligent, well-read, able to keep a conversation going, and quick with an appropriate joke. He was not looking for a woman to run his household or nanny his children. He simply wanted human connection with an interesting person, and that appealed to her.
They saw each other about two or three times a week. Sometimes they went to the theater, sometimes to an exhibition, or simply strolled through the city. There were café visits and trips out of town too—for example, to Elena’s friend’s dacha. Elena liked that kind of relationship: light, without obligations, but still with a sense of emotional closeness.
“Elena, tell me, how do you live?” Sergey asked once, shortly after they had met, when they were sitting in a small café after a walk.
“Not badly. Quietly, peacefully. I’ve been living alone for five years now. I’m used to it.”
“And you’re not bored?”
“Sometimes. But I have friends, and my daughters visit often. And now you’ve appeared too.”
“Nice to hear that,” he smiled.
After the divorce, Sergey rented a small one-room apartment in an old building. He often complained about the landlady: she was always unhappy about something, had no intention of making repairs, and kept raising the rent regularly.
“But what can you do?” Sergey would say with a shrug. “I don’t have a place of my own. After the divorce, everything stayed with my ex-wife. The apartment had originally been bought by her parents, and there’s no way to prove how much I invested in renovations over the years.”
“Have you never thought about buying something for yourself?” Elena once asked.
“Where would I get that kind of money? Buying an apartment now is almost impossible.”
Elena understood his situation. She herself had a spacious three-room apartment in a good neighborhood—the result of many years of work. Her daughters had long since moved out, each with a family of her own, so there was plenty of free space in the apartment.
But the thought of suggesting that Sergey move in with her never even crossed her mind. It was one thing to date, take walks, and spend time together, and quite another to share a home.
One Saturday, Elena was getting ready for their next meeting: they had planned simply to walk around the city. When the doorbell rang, she opened it and literally froze. Sergey was standing on the doorstep—and beside him were two large suitcases.
“Sergey, what happened?” she asked in confusion.
“Elena, may I come in? I’ll explain everything now.”
They went into the room. Sergey left the suitcases in the hallway and sank wearily onto the sofa.
“You see, the landlady decided to sell the apartment. She said I have to move out within a week.”
“And what are you going to do?” Elena asked cautiously.
“That’s just it—I don’t know yet. It’s hard to find a new place quickly, and I don’t have the money for a deposit right now.”
Elena felt herself gradually beginning to understand where he was heading.
“Elena, I was thinking…” Sergey continued after a short pause. “You and I are serious, aren’t we? We’ve been seeing each other for half a year, we know each other well. Maybe it’s time we tried living together?”
“Together?” Elena repeated in surprise, as if she had not fully understood what he meant.
“Well, yes,” Sergey replied calmly. “You have a three-room apartment, there’s plenty of space. I’m not planning to live off you—I work, I’ll contribute to expenses: groceries, household needs.”
“Sergey, but we’ve never discussed anything like this before.”
“And why should we have discussed it in advance? Sometimes life itself suggests the solution.”
Elena felt her confusion rising inside her. She clearly was not ready for such a turn of events. Everything had happened far too suddenly.
“Sergey, I need time to think.”
“What is there to think about? We love each other.”
“Loving someone and living under the same roof are not the same thing.”
“Why not? At our age, it’s time to make decisions.”
“Decisions… about what exactly?”
“About the relationship. If we’re seeing each other, then naturally we should be together.”
Elena glanced at the suitcases standing in the hallway. Everything looked as though Sergey had already made the decision himself and was simply presenting her with a fait accompli.
“And what if I’m against it?” she asked calmly.
“Against what? Against happiness?”
“Against someone showing up at my door with his belongings without even asking permission.”
“Elena, don’t be angry. I didn’t do it on purpose. It’s just how circumstances turned out.”
“Circumstances don’t just turn out on their own,” she replied quietly. “People create them.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean that first you should have talked to me. And only then brought your suitcases.”
Sergey fell silent for a while, clearly thinking over her words.
“All right. Then let’s talk now. I’m suggesting that we live together.”
“And I refuse.”
“Why?”
“Because I like living alone. I enjoy our time together, but I do not need a shared everyday life.”
“But why? We’re a good match.”
“A good match for dates, walks, and spending time together. Not for daily domestic life.”
“What difference does it make?”
“A huge difference. Daily life is every single day. It’s habits, routines, constant compromises.”
“So what? People can adapt to one another.”
“Exactly. And I do not want to adapt. I’m happy with my life as it is.”
Sergey looked hurt and confused.
“Elena, what if I asked you to marry me? Officially.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why? So that everything would be proper, the way it should be.”
“Sergey, marriage won’t change anything. I still do not want to live together.”
“Then what is the point of our relationship at all?”
“The same point it had before. We meet, we talk, we spend time together.”
“And then what?”
“And then we keep meeting.”
“But that’s not serious!”
“Why isn’t it serious? I’m perfectly happy with that arrangement.”
“But I’m not. I need stability.”
“What kind of stability exactly do you need?” Elena asked, sitting down across from him.
“An ordinary family kind. Living beside the person you love, having breakfast together, making plans.”
“And I do not want to have breakfast with someone every morning. I do not want to adjust my life to someone else’s plans.”
“But you’re alone!”
“I’m not alone. I have daughters, friends, and I have you. Living alone does not mean being lonely.”
“I don’t understand that difference.”
“The difference is that now I choose for myself when and with whom I want to spend time. If we live together, that choice will be gone.”
“Elena, but at sixty, it’s time to think about who will be beside you in old age, in sickness.”
“I do think about that. But that does not necessarily have to be a husband.”
“Then who?”
“My daughters, a caregiver, social services. There are options.”
“But that’s not the same at all!”
“For you, maybe. For me, it’s perfectly normal.”
Sergey stood up from the sofa and slowly walked around the room, clearly trying to deal with his irritation.
“So you’re suggesting that I keep renting an apartment and only see you from time to time?”
“I’m suggesting that you live in whatever way suits you. And that we meet when both of us want to.”
“And if I simply don’t have the money to rent a place?”
“That’s your problem, Sergey. Not mine.”
“That sounds cruel.”
“But it’s honest. I’m not obliged to solve your housing problems.”
“But we’re together!”
“Yes, we’re together. So what? That does not make me responsible for your life.”
Sergey sat back down on the sofa and stared at the floor in thought.
“Elena, if I do find an apartment, will we keep seeing each other?”
“Of course. If we both want that.”
“And while I’m looking for a place… can I stay with you for a while?”
“No.”
“Not at all?”
“Not at all.”
The man realized that she was firm and that he would not be able to change her mind. Silently, he stood up, took the suitcases, and headed for the door.
“So I’ll have to look not only for housing, but for a new relationship too.”
“Possibly,” Elena answered calmly.
“Elena, and later you won’t regret this?”
“No.”
Sergey left and never called again. Elena returned to her quiet, familiar life. At sixty, she valued peace more than relationships, and her own freedom far more than the need to constantly have someone beside her.