Loving My Realtor is Wrong
Does A Husband Come with the House?
sensed my growing turmoil and grew tense himself. I feared losing
him and we began to argue like an old married couple.
Daniel, you showed me a house with no toilet. A house with no
toilet! You know who you show a house with no toilet to? A man with
no spleen. Not me, Daniel! Not me!
blamed me for changing my mind so often.
Last week you only wanted to see Spanish bungalows, this week
you hate them.
I didn't know I hated them until I saw them -- You're driving
too fast, you're making me nauseous.
Daniel and I hit our ninth month of house hunting, I gave him a
pen with his name on it and took note that I could have conceived
and given birth during this time. I was still living in the same
studio apartment I had occupied for the last eight years and bemoaned
my lack of space the entire time. I could literally lie on the floor,
spread eagle, and very nearly touch all four walls with my hands
and feet. But now, I had a new concern. I started to fear getting
what I asked for. What would happen if I finally had more space?
More space to decorate, more space to get stabbed in? I already
checked to make sure my door was locked ten times before I went
to bed and still lay awake worrying that every sound I heard was
someone breaking into my apartment only to find me alone and defenseless.
Or what if my towel rack came loose and I couldn't fix it myself
and I didn't have an apartment manager to call? And then the front
door handle fell off, and I wouldn't be able to leave my house because
I couldn't lock the door, and I'd die of starvation because my friends
would get tired of bringing me food.
sent me flowers for my birthday, and he bought me a fax machine
so that he could fax me pictures of houses. At our one year anniversary,
we spent our first evening together -- dinner and a movie, then
out for drinks. Questions about real estate had long been replaced
with other, more interesting conversation.
your favorite snack food? Did you have a dog growing up? What do
you draw when you doodle? Isn't it weird that we still doodle the
same things we doodled in elementary school?
later on Open House Sunday the weather was cool, and Daniel was
wearing the roll neck sweater I liked so much on him and his tortoise
shell glasses that made him look even more sophisticated. We were
at Starbucks and had just finished our well rehearsed argument about
who would pay. Daniel went to the condiment bar for a packet of
sugar in the raw. The barista sat a drink on the counter, and yelled
out -- Grande Chai! Daniel! I reached for the drink -- I'll
take it. We're together.
stopped for me at that moment as I finally owned up to something
that had been gurgling deep inside me. I saw my true self reflected
in that barista's eyes. I smiled broadly, and not having time to
run to my truck, I screamed inside my head: Yay for me! I'm in
love with my gay realtor! Oh, goody! That makes sense! I mean, there's
no time to meet anyone else because I'm too busy spending every
waking minute with a man who can never satisfy me!
later, I put a bid in on a condo because that seemed like a more
manageable baby step than a whole house. I realized that I was buying
a place to put my stuff and perhaps a little extra room to dance
-- I was not, however, purchasing my entire future, a family, or
a soft place to land.
like to say that I moved in and everything fell into place -- that
one day, I knocked on my neighbor's door to tell him that I had
gotten some of his mail by mistake and he invited me in for a cup
of coffee. We sipped it slowly in front of the fireplace, his arm
around me and his dog curled up at our feet, and I realized I was
finally home. But alas
started seeing a therapist to figure out why I obsessively decorate
and redecorate my new place. I've bought and returned four couches
and am currently writing this while sitting on a floor pillow in
my very sparse den. If you called me right now, you'd hear an echo
when I spoke. My shrink says that whether searching for a home,
a couch, or a husband, you should first identify your needs. Dr.
Birnbaum is a wise man. And this may come as a surprise to no one,
but I think I'm in love with him.
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