I was a single homeowner in my 20s – the way men reacted was bizarre

I took a trip down memory lane this week when I read the latest homeowner stats out of the US… bear with me, I promise it’s juicy. Nearly 50 years after they were allowed to actually get a mortgage, single women are outpacing single men for the first-time in the home buying market by more than two to one. Basically, more single women own homes in the US than ever before. Yay, women are taking control of their own lives and not waiting for a partner before signing on the dotted line. In the UK single women are twice as likely to buy a home on their own compared to men. But behind the statistics, what’s the reality of being a young, single woman buying your own place? Well, I did it in my mid-twenties and I loved it. The first week involved trying to cover up a huge red wine stain across half the living room wall after hosting a raving afterparty in my flat ’til 9am. I’d drunkenly thrown myself onto the sofa with a full glass of Cab Sav, and suddenly my white walls were pink, although to be honest I was too inebriated to take notice. The third week involved a broken toilet seat after someone, let’s say, enthusiastically threw up during yet another party hosted by moi. There was also the time I got home to virtually the entire cast of ITV’s Take Me Out having a sleepover (it’s a long story). I can’t lie, it was some of the best years of my life, and I’d say pretty much run of the mill behaviour of a single gal in London town (before having a pristine house for Instagram likes became a thing). But my gosh what I wasn’t expecting was the weird Hunger Games-esque adventure ride that was dating when you’re a young single homeowner. If we think of it as a flow chart, with me and my flat at the top, the single men in my life came in two separate strands: those who lived with their mums and therefore saw my house as some kind of outreach programme. And those who, once they’d realised I had a mortgage, were repulsed quicker than if I’d passed wind in bed. The ones who lived with their mum would sometimes stay at my house for days on end, using the tired excuse that it was easier to get to work, or some nonsense. They’d never actually leave clothes in my flat though… no, no, no. That would reveal too much. Sometimes, they’d leave my abode before work – go home to their mum to shower and change, then rock up back at my flat at the end of the working day. I was basically some kind of pseudo-hotel where they got fed and watered without their mum nagging them to tidy their room. It got to the point where if I met someone who I knew still lived with their mum, I’d vaguely mention the area I lived in (it was important back then to know if you were being chatted up by a south Londoner, or a *shudder* north Londoner) and leave out the specifics. But then I’d get calls out of the blue saying they were “in the area”, and was I home so they could pop in to “hang out”. By that point in my life I was over being the home of the Lost Boys, so would just say I was out even if I wasn’t. The other strand involved men whose male fragility couldn’t cope with a young single female homeowner, even if they themselves owned their own place. It was mad – they seemed to think if I didn’t need them financially, then they would have no role in my life… because the free things: love, companionship, friendship were not enough. Which is utter bollocks obviously. But there was a moment in my twenties when I just couldn’t understand how me having my own place through a lot of hard work (and a 100 per cent mortgage), could possibly be such a turn off. But then I reached my thirties and stopped hanging around with boys, and dated men instead. Annoyingly, the same scenarios are still being experienced all these years later: single women who become less attractive to some men, because they pay a mortgage all by themselves. Now, I’m not here to convince those men to think otherwise, because that’s a whole different, very long, conversation. Instead, guys, just think about what you could have won if your ego didn’t run your life. Because I can guarantee, she would have changed your life. For ever.