Since becoming an adult, the term referring to the functional definition of being eligible to vote and buy cigarettes and not a benchmark of emotional development, I've moved six times. My first apartment was put together like an Egyptian temple. I expected to be buried there. Every effort was made to make it a mirror to reflect my personality and style. On each successive move, I've put less and less effort into my domicile.
If you haven't settled into a place after five moves, you might never. Laziness and apathy contributed equally to the increasing austerity of my living situations. Seriously investing is taxing. Eventually, no longer trying to make a home for ourselves, we become eternal house guests. How much time do you have left on your egg timer? I'm quite certain that in a few years I'll be down to an iPhone, toothbrush and bed. As it stands, very little separates my apartment from a hotel room.
Given a long enough time frame the charm of all enterprises diminishes.
Dating after 30 is going to be a shitshow.