After months of charts, spreadsheets, and late-night calls with my mother, I finally decided on the property that would become my new home—in Mexico.
It wasn't an easy decision, but it came down to practicality. I faced three options:
A poorly constructed property with a mandatory private club membership I'd have to pay for even when absent
A beautifully designed home in a smaller community where if someone defaulted on maintenance, each owner would shoulder a larger financial burden
A property in a larger community offering nearly everything on my wishlist
I made the calculated choice: option three.
Even then, the decisions kept coming. Which lot would serve me best? (Nothing in the first or last rows). Which layout would accommodate my lifestyle? Pool or no pool? Outdoor bar or simple patio? And the great countertop debate—I wanted something light-colored to spot bugs easily, but after several rounds of negotiation, I was told it simply wasn't possible.
People in my real life, with the exception of my mother, had no clue what I was planning. My digital life was another story entirely. Friends who "lived inside the computer" joined me on this journey, offering sound advice and virtual hand-holding through each decision.
After settling on a location that earned the coveted Mom-approval stamp, I told my little cousin. His eyes immediately welled with tears—in his innocent mind, this meant the end of our hangouts and adventures. I smothered him with the cuddles and hugs he would normally squirm away from, desperately trying to convince him this wasn't goodbye.
Later, I confided in his father, thinking our close relationship meant he could keep my confidence. Rookie mistake. He called a family meeting faster than you can say "expatriate." So much for discretion.
With the exception of my virtual support network and a handful of relatives sworn to secrecy, nobody knew about my international property plans.
This house-building adventure didn't feel real until I held a fully executed contract in my hands and made my first significant payment. At that watershed moment, I lifted the self-imposed information embargo and told my mother—who had been practically bursting with the secret—that she could finally share the news.
To be clear: I'm not typically someone who broadcasts my personal business, but watching my mother struggle to keep this secret was like witnessing someone try to hold back a tsunami with a kitchen strainer.
Five minutes after giving her the green light, my phone pinged with a congratulatory text from my aunt. Then another cousin. By evening, when I called to check in, Mom had spent the entire day on a notification spree with only two siblings left to tell.
Everyone was excited and happy for me, though some expressed nervousness about Mexico's portrayal in American media. Even the skeptics were already planning visits, with various relatives commenting on how I "always knew what to do with money."
That last part really made me think.
I've always been frugal, with a few selective indulgences: quality computers, sturdy boots, and well-made coats. Other things—like trendy clothing—never captured my interest. I've invested in my career, sometimes with little tangible return, but mostly, I've found satisfaction in watching my savings grow.
But the opportunities I've encountered throughout my life aren't solely the product of financial prudence. Part of privilege is walking through life knowing you're not one missed paycheck away from disaster. It's having an advisor saying, "Here's our long-term plan, but if you want something shorter-term, we can make that happen too." It's working for a company that covers 100% of your health insurance and retirement benefits. It's being positioned to save and plan for your next chapter.
Looking around at friends and family members, I see many who have struggled or are struggling now. Meanwhile, my "childless, husbandless self" carries no financial dependents. I'm unencumbered by limited thinking that confines possibilities within U.S. borders. I've always believed I could become almost anything (except president, obviously), and I've never shied away from calculated risks.
What my family interprets as being "smart with money," I recognize as forward, calculated thinking. The reality is stark: if I want to maintain the lifestyle my parents currently enjoy, it won't happen for me in the United States. It will happen elsewhere.
So perhaps this announcement isn't just about property—it's me officially closing the door on my American dream, and opening a window to something new.
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