Last week the two year period of unemployment that started when I graduated college ended. In those two years, I lived with my parents. But I never thought of that time as not having a “real life”. I worked on my novel every week, spent time with my fiance, did work around the house, read stacks of books, hung out with friends 2–3 nights a week, had all kinds of adventures, and taught myself a ton of new skills.
So, yes, I have a “real life”, but it doesn’t seem to differ so much from the other life. The biggest change is that my fiance and I can afford to move in together, but until we do, our time is scheduled. As is my writing time, which is almost as important to me.