The Apartment Era, Pt. II: You Don’t Want a Bachelor Pad, You Want Belonging

You ever walk into an apartment and feel like you’re standing in a placeholder?

The couch is there, but barely.

The art is “still coming.”

The silverware drawer is a war crime.

And the energy?

Dead.

It’s not that it’s ugly. It’s just… unfinished.

Not in the cool, minimal way.

Unfinished like someone who doesn’t fully believe he belongs in his own life yet.

I used to call it my bachelor pad.

It was easier than admitting I just never really moved in.

Sure, my stuff was there. My name was on the lease.

But my presence?

Still in a U-Haul somewhere between survival mode and ‘maybe one day.’

I told myself I was being low-maintenance.

Didn’t need much. Didn’t care for throw pillows or rugs.

Why would I buy a dining table when I always ate alone?

Why frame art when I might move in a year?

Why invest in comfort when I didn’t even feel settled in my own skin?

A lot of men live like this.

Not messy. Just... temporary.

Like they’re waiting to be chosen before they really arrive.

We don’t talk about it, but the bachelor pad is often just quiet grief in disguise.

An outer reflection of an inner shrug.

A space that says:

“I’m not planning to stay here.

I’m not planning to stay anywhere.”

Hear me out:

Eventually, the space starts talking back.

You come home and don’t feel rested.

You don’t invite people over because it feels like a dorm.

You wonder why dating feels disconnected, why your habits feel chaotic, why your anxiety hums louder at night.

It’s not just about furniture. It’s about energy.

It’s about care.

It’s about whether your space says,

This is where Ilive”, or “this is where I crash while life happens to me.”

You don’t need a Pinterest apartment.

You don’t need a $3k coffee table or abstract art you don’t understand.

You just need to mean it.

Whatever you bring in, bring it in like you’re staying.

Hang the art.

Make the bed, even if nobody sees it.

Light the candle for yourself.

Set the table for one like it matters.

Because it does.

This is your life.

Your space should feel like it knows you.

They lied when they told men home design was feminine.

There is nothing more masculine than having a place that says: I am grounded. I know who I am, and I built this for him.

Your apartment doesn’t have to be impressive.

It just has to be intentional.

And when it is?

Everything else shifts.

Your mornings. Your focus. Your relationships. Your reflection in the mirror.

You start showing up differently when the place you return to isn’t draining you, it’s recharging you.

So maybe this fall, you don’t need a full rebrand.

You just need a lamp.

A real one. With a soft glow. That makes you feel something when the day ends.

Maybe you need a rug under your feet when you first wake up.

A coffee mug that wasn’t stolen from a roommate.

A place to sit, alone, that doesn’t feel like punishment.

Maybe you need to stop calling it a “crib.”

Start calling it home.

Written by Ajani Brathwaite