Bougie Woogie

There’s a few things that can be said of me that would quite rightly elicit a “Yep. That’s about right” response. Like that I’m staggeringly dim-witted. And that I’m highly impatient. And that I’m cheap frugal. 

But another, I think, is that I’m pretty low-maintenance. Especially for someone my age and in relation to almost all of my family and friends. I live comfortably. But so much of what I have I either don’t need, or easily could downgrade a lot. 

I’ve also been accused of having a sort of martyr syndrome. To that I’ve just shrugged.

Want not, waste not

In fact, I kinda take this low maintenance as a point of pride. Great pride. I want for little and take pride in needing minimal versions of things. Or, better yet, I don’t need those things at all. And I certainly don’t rely on a lot of those things. Heck, reliance on things—especially expensive things—when I don’t need to is anathema to me. 

Sure, I need the basics. A roof over my head, ample food to keep me going, and family and friends whom I love and who love me. In all of these things, I my needs are more than well met. But I don’t need a mansion, a fridge and freezer stocked with high-end foods, or dozens of close friends and family.

Like I intimated above, I’ve become a bigger outlier as my circle of people has gotten older. Friends and family who once I’d have described as low-maintenance have since become far more high-maintenance. Maybe it’s lifestyle creep. Or perhaps a desire to keep up with the Joneses. Either way, the changes have niggled at me. 

Not for me, I’ve long proudly said as to holding up my hand at becoming bougie. The mega bonus is that the money-saving aspects of this helped in no small measure in allowing me to FIRE. 

Recently, though, I’m noticing some changes in myself. Ones that make me think I’m becoming more high-maintenance. I’m still coming to terms and not entirely comfortable with them. 

Hostel work environment

Take, for example, my recent trip with Thing One (The Elder). Some of my all-time favorite trips have been overseas backpacking adventures. A common element of them has been staying in hostels, and always in rooms with other travelers. Sometimes just a few other people. Other times a lot. It’s been fun and a great way to meet new and interesting people. 

The plan for the trip with Thing One always was to stay in hostels. That was a given. Both because I wanted to replicate my past fun and because I wanted to introduce Thing One to this style of travel. 

On the trip with Thing One, we stayed in rooms with up to a dozen other travelers. Also, while some of the hostels were generally quiet and cleanish, others were . . . uuummm . . . not.

What I found, even during the trip, is that I’m 100% done with sharing a room in a hostel with other people and with noisy and not-so-cleanish hostels. I may even be done with hostels period, tho I’m not quite ready to admit to that. 

Dear Reader, to this you might say, “So what?! It’s not a big deal, you big dope.” Or, “Well, it’s about time. Someone your age, with your means, doesn’t need to stay in those types of places. Move on and live with it!”

But to me, this is a big deal. It’s a change I didn’t see coming. I console myself with the fact that I’d be happy camping. Or even couch surfing, tho only under certain circumstances. But regardless, my standards apparently aren’t quite as low as they once were and as I’d proudly thought them to be.

Bus-ted

There’s more. I’m a long-time proponent of and patron of public transportation. For decades, the closest public transportation options for me have had the bonus of being super convenient for my needs/most frequent destinations. That’s no mistake, as it’s been no small factor in deciding exactly where to live. 

But these options have also regularly featured, shall we say, a cast of “characters” as fellow riders. Also a regular feature has been a low-simmering (and sometimes more) threat of craziness or outright violence.

I’m a big city boy, and generally aware of my surroundings. And I’ve seen enough to know that the threat of something truly bad happening is almost infinitesimally low, if unpredictable. And that regardless of the degree to which a passenger may be a “character,” my experience has been that 99+% of the time they’re harmless.

But I’ve recently found myself consistently getting more bothered and annoyed than I’ve ever been when I’ve taken public transportation. So bothered and annoyed that I now sometimes dread riding public transportation in my city. When walking or biking isn’t an equally good alternative option, I now find myself contemplating driving to my destination in instances I’d once reflexively have opted to take public transportation.

Again, a change in myself that I didn’t see coming and am having trouble coming to terms with. I’m bothered both by the fact that I’m considering a more environmentally unfriendly transportation option, and that I’m making myself more reliant on my own gas-powered vehicle. 

A city situation

And there’s one more thing. I’ve lived in large cities essentially since graduating from college. Never wanted to move to a suburb or rural area. I don’t begrudge anyone for living in those areas, or wanting to. They’ve just never been my jam. 

But after some violent incidents at our kids’ school. I got upset and bothered. Very upset and bothered. And for the first time ever, the thought of moving outside of a big city entered my head. Now, the rational side of me knows that violence can and does happen anywhere. But still. 

Now, after discussing this with The Missus, we decided to banish the mere thought. But the fact that it even entered my flea-addled brain bothers me.  

And in the end . . . 

Am I becoming bougie? Are my low-maintenance bona fides now gonna be called into question? Or *gasp!* revoked? Well, I don’t think so. But maybe I’m becoming just a little high maintenance.