Sometimes, It's Good to be a Follower
You made the plan. You’ve discussed it with your friends both sober and drunk/high, and it made sense to you both times so you knew it was real. You even made peace with your friends’ obvious bias because they had the most to win out of you actually going through with it. You did the maths, crunched the numbers and saved up for it. You’ve thought about it long and hard *giggles to self*.
You made up your mind; you’re an Egyptian adult and YOU’RE MOVING OUT OF YOUR PARENTS’ HOUSE!!!
Hold your horses there, sport. Getting your friends’ obvious blessings (because they now have a place to bum around in, free of charge) and working out the financials aren’t just what you need to pull this off. We need to talk about the 400-meter Olympic mental hurdles you’re about to run through with the guardians of your current keep. You need to consider strategies, approaches, preferred time of the year to do it (Spring helps!), arguments (both logical and nonsensical equally) and a whole slew of other things you probably didn’t think about nor consider because you’re a naive flower petal about to go head-to-head against a hurricane whose hobbies include tearing down houses from their foundations, ruining lives and plucking out said flower petals for funsies.
This is where we come in. We got you, booboo. We’re going to help you navigate this treacherous level of Super Mario Bros where all shrooms are bad shrooms. To do that, we need to acknowledge the existence of a fairly wide spectrum of parent-types out there in our beloved nation and it obviously pairs with a certain personality that you, dear reader, carry within.
So without further ado, shall we do the proverbial Tango?
You were raised by a single parent and as such, they decided it was best if they were to treat you and your siblings (if any) in the same manner that Gunnery Sergeant Hartman treated the privates in “Full Metal Jacket”, i.e., with a lot of screaming, yelling, murderous threats and just a hint of biblical foreshadowing.
This Egyptian parent type had decided long ago that the only ways that you were leaving their home was either carried off in a limo for your wedding or in a hearse for your funeral. Your own desires and wants in life are irrelevant and inconsequential at best. They do not care for your logical pleas and care even less for your made-up ones. They already hate all your friends and think they should all be sent to some sort of rehab clinic. As far as they’re concerned, the issue of you moving out of the house is entirely out of the question.
Use of logic is not only senseless but a literal waste of oxygen. Your best bet is to essentially elope, change your name, get 30 facial plastic surgeries, get a new job and start over.
The above recommendation is obviously futile, in case you were contemplating it. This Egyptian parent type will find you, they will drag you back to their house from your newly sculpted skull and they will imprison you for eternity.
As far as they’re concerned, you’ve never grown past the age of eight years of age when it comes to your parents. Irrelevant of what you do for a living, or around the house, you’re still going to get bi-hourly calls every hour on the hour inquiring as to your whereabouts. You are never responsible enough, nor will you ever be.
They will not let go. They couldn’t, even if they wanted to.
You’re going to have to change jobs – in a drastic sense obviously. You may need to change cities/countries. You may need to get a job on the other side of town, but far enough that your commute is now hazardous to your health and finances. This may allow them to consider an exception in terms of letting you go. Or not. They’re very unpredictable.
If they do let you go, expect calls on the hour, every hour. Sudden visits are the norm. You can never be really alone. If you’re okay with that, then pack your bags buddy, you’re going to IKEA!
This parent type doesn’t necessarily have it in them to strike the fear of God into you. That being said, they do make it a point to constantly remind you that you couldn’t survive a day out there without their support.
While they can’t tell you no, they’re going to do their best to scare you off of it. This will take several angles, including bringing up all the financial burdens that this move will introduce into your life, the possible burglaries you may experience, hidden costs, the fact you don’t know how to operate a washing machine, or possibly even bringing up that they may die when left alone and you’d only discover after visiting weeks later to find their rotting decomposing corpses.
If you have it in you, you’ll do it, but you will need to brace for impact. They will give you the stink eye as you roll your suitcases out of your bedroom. They will not call to check up on you for weeks (months if they’re really good). They will do their best to make you feel that you’ve done the biggest mistake of your life. You must stay focused.
You need to ride the wave of anger and denial until you get to acceptance. Perhaps with time, you may even get to evoke their sense of being proud, unless you turn your new home into a brothel, which let’s face it, is a big possibility.
Your parents were probably amongst the attendees of the original Woodstock festival. They’ve always “supported” you. They’ve always “believed in you”. They want you to spread your wings and take the world by the balls. They want you to be you.
Not much to assess really, they’ve been waiting on your sorry ass to leave for the past 18 years or so.
Just tell them? I know that’s comparatively unorthodox, but this parent type really wants you to GTFO of their house so they can resume their lives without you.
Your old bedroom is about to either become your dad’s study or a sex dungeon with a hot tub for your parents, there’s no in-between.
There you have it folks. Happy moving out!
Sometimes, It's Good to be a Follower