A Realty Love Story?
Our house has been on the market since last October. In fact, the first open house we held was on the day of a freak snow storm dubbed “Snowtober” which left over 20 inches of snow in its wake during the last weekend of October. Perhaps we should have seen this for the omen it turned out to be, putting a house up for sale just as winter approaches makes as much sense as waiting until the holidays to start a diet.
Since then we’ve had many showings of the house, each time prospective buyers have liked what they saw, but not enough to make a commitment to the house. They’ve noted that it has a great floor plan for entertaining, tons of storage space, and a bit of funky charm thanks to our quirky decorating choices. They’ve also been aware that the back yard looks a bit like and urban daycare center with a large playset, clumps of dirt, and high visibility from the street. Also the three bathrooms need updating and that it takes a lot of money to heat a five bedroom house. All in all, the house looks good on paper but there is something not quite right about it. For some reason, this reminds me of my (ancient) dating history. And instead of seeing myself as the buyer, I think I more closely relate to the house.
It took many frogs for me to find my prince, partly because I think I spent a long time disguising myself as a frog, bird, lion, or cupcake depending on the lens of the men with whom I was involved. In my early twenties, I was especially tofu-ish. You like tennis? Hey, I like tennis. You drink sake? What a coincidence – so do I! Oh, it went on and on the things I masqueraded in, and some of them, like skydiving, were really fun, but most of them, again, like skydiving, were very costly in a variety of ways. To make matters worse, each of these men found me lacking in some way despite my endeavors to be who I thought they wanted me to be. By the time I met my husband, I was prepared to live a solitary, but interesting life. I had great friends, engaging work, and many passions. I also had a chip on my shoulder and defenses worthy of a Navy Seal Team Six raid. When I did meet my husband, I immediately deemed him unworthy of my romantic attention, which was actually a good thing since it meant I could be myself with him and not worry about how I might come across. This cleared the way for us to love one another, which is a good thing as far as I can tell.
Now our house just has to find someone to love it for what it is, a large, slightly dated, Colonial in need of landscaping and updating but worthy of a loud, active family. We’ve had an offer on it and remain hopeful that we will make it through the inspection phase, but I refuse to box up every little playmobil piece and I will not empty all of the bookshelves because the buyers need to see that this is not a showplace, but a home. And they’d be lucky to live here.