Hopefully you've bought yourself a better ticket than the one his sister ended up using.
Let me tell you a story, @LondonWoes.
My auntie Margaret, who is a wonderful woman and one of my favourite people in the world, had a long term partner who we all not so fondly referred to as "Tony the Turd".
I can't recall exactly what Tony did for a living, but it was something where he often got free perks, tickets to things and so on. So in some ways they had a nice lifestyle and got to do fun things thanks to Tony's job. On the other hand he was an unofficial cocklodger in her house, and would actually turn the electricity in his house off at the mains every time he went to stay with her. Evidently he had nothing in his fridge or freezer.
Over the years he dropped many hints about moving in with her, but she was divorced with one child, co-owned a house with her mother, and then finally when her son had long since flown the nest and her mother eventually died and left her the other half of the house and she no longer had a concrete excuse for why Tony couldn't move in, she had to admit that he wasn't going to move in because she just didn't want him to.
Anyway, ye gods, but the man was tighter than a nun's minge. He used to revel in getting everything as cheap as humanly possible. His favourite place to eat out was Wetherspoons, and he used to constantly bang on about what a bargain it was. When you talk about your now ex being proud as punch about his £30 "hotel" room in London, it's Tony's face I see.
He gloated about having made the most of the free bar at Margaret's mother's funeral. The last time I saw him we went to a garden party at one of Margaret's neighbours' houses and all the way home he was boasting about how he'd brought one bottle of cheap wine to the party but drunk at least two much nicer bottles.
Anyway, I'm talking about him in the past tense as if he's dead. In truth I have no idea whether he is dead or alive and I couldn't give a shit. Eventually Margaret gave him the shove. Unfortunately she spent decades of her life with the twat which she'll never get back. I have no idea what the final straw was, but even at the age of 70 or however old Margaret was when she finally bought Tony a one-way ticket to Dumpsville, Dumped, she realised that life is too short to spend with a cheapskate who knows the price of everything but the value of nothing.
If you've learned that lesson 40 years earlier than Margaret did, all the more power to you. You don't need to settle for a man like this.