The following was something I wrote nearly four years ago when we first began our search for a new home. We currently have a beautiful home that we have loved well. But when we first moved in, we only had two little girls and were used to living in a small, two bedroom walk-up outside of Philly. We have
We have exciting news about moving forward to the next chapter of our lives, the magical 1 1/2 bathroom chapter. But, that post (coming tomorrow) can only be appreciated in the fullest sense if you see how
So, come along on the roller coaster ride of my precarious stability, and take a moment to feel bad for my husband while you're at it.
I don't think I have ever really gotten dumped. Until now.
I can't say for sure, but I am pretty sure that this is how it feels to get good and dumped. Ya see, we put in an offer on a beautiful home that really seemed like it was the best possible home for us. This house was just like the perfect guy: sensible, stable, good-looking, (without trying to impress anyone), met all my earthly needs, had a lot of character, and even a little bit of a sense of humor, humble from the outside, but was really something special on the inside... where it counts. Oh, and like all perfect guys, he had a walk-in butler's pantry.
In fairness, I know it isn't exactly the same as a breakup with an actual human... but, all the major factors are the same. It all started out like young love. There was the awkward anticipation of the introduction, trying to get to know the house while everyone is watching and wondering if we'll hit it off. There's that feeling of being totally head over heels, but trying to play it cool, knowing you need to take things slow, and really try to see things realistically. All to no avail, because there simply are no flaws!
Then, it starts to unravel.
I want to make a commitment, but my Facebook status indicates that I am already a relationship with another house, or worse yet... that "it's complicated" because I need to sell by owner so I don't lose all my equity. All of this is just too much for the dream-guy-house, because he's totally ready to settle down, and he's a real catch, and he knows what he is looking for and if you don't snatch him up... some other unattached babe is gonna snag 'em with an offer that isn't contingent on breaking up with her other house first.
And this leads to the ultimate demise. Suddenly there I am, making these empty promises that I swear I'll break it off with this other house, that this other house means nothing to me... that the house I currently own was just there for me when I needed a place to stay... it isn't love! I just need a little time to let that house down gently! Please, I beg, I just need a little time!
I am acting a desperate fool, and he just moves on like our time together meant nothing to him.
In keeping with the common denominators of a heart wrenching breakup: I cried for an embarrassingly disproportionate amount of time, I had trouble sleeping, woke up clinically depressed and without any desire to eat or hope for future happiness. I emailed his buddies (aka the realtor) and asked to convince him to give me another chance. (Sorry tom, that is actually true.) I, impressively, was able to change every subject of every conversation back to the house, I spent most of the day looking at pictures of the house online, then "went to the post office" which is PATHETIC for "I really drove past the house just to see if the house was home." I have pouted like a betrayed dumpee, and spent every spare second looking online for a house to rebound with. I just want to hurt him the way he hurt me. I want him to realize what he is missing. And when he sees me pull my U-haul down a DOUBLE-wide driveway, he will look at his puny single-wide and wish that he never let me slip through his beautiful pocket-doors.
With leaded glass.