realtor

I first caught a glimpse of him online last night. The description was brief, but the pictures drew me in instantly.

I was hooked.

I dreamed of him last night, imaging the future we could have together. Picturing our lives intertwined. When I awoke this morning, he was still on my mind, even though I was trying to suppress the thoughts. Giving in, I finally decided we needed to meet in person. Immediately.

I made the short drive to his residence. I gasped when I pulled into the driveway. He was even better looking in person that he was in pictures. I was smitten.

That’s right. I have a crush on a house.

Like any crush, my mind is awash in romantic notions. Spinning possibilities out of mere suggestions. I am obsessed, overtaken with passions of paint colors and potential plantings.

Like any crush, my dreams will likely be dashed since there is scant anchor in reality.

Brock and have been rational in our quest for a home. We have registered with hatch My House so that our wedding gifts can build our down payment. We plan to move this fall after the wedding and when our lease has expired. With the assistance of a friend in the real estate business, we started casually perusing homes in the area we live and love. We frequently email postings back and forth and engage in dialog about the potential perks and liabilities of each property. We’ve known that these homes are only hypotheticals; they will be long gone by the time we are prepared to buy. And that’s been okay.

And then we saw this one.

On digital paper, it’s perfect. A foreclosure, priced to sell. Ugly on the inside, but just needing some TLC to make it beautiful. It has the spaces we need and the amenities we want. It’s difficult not to fall and fall hard.

I visited today, exploring the yard and peering in the windows. I could so easily see us in that space. I was already arranging furniture and repainting walls. I could almost hear the clacks of the sticks from the spot where Brock would teach his private martial arts lessons. I stood in the spot where I would put a hammock and gazed out at the yard that I so desperately want. I felt the ache of my nomadic existence the past four years fade as I let the home’s energy wash over me.

Damn.

I know better than to do this. I know I’m getting excited just to have my heart broken. I know it’s just a house and should not be an emotional investment. I know that it makes sense to wait until we have more money to put down and our lease is officially over.

But damn. I’m crushing hard.

Tomorrow, we make the formal introductions. Our realtor friend is meeting us there to show us the inside. A part of me hopes that the home has some fatal flaw on the inside. Something that will crush the crush.

But another part of me wants it to remain perfect.

Brock and I have talked strategy. Figured out a possible juggling act that would allow us to purchase earlier than we anticipated. It’s not ideal and it’s a little scary but it just might work. Of course, we may not be the only ones flirting with our intended. There may be competition better looking and more prepared for an immediate relationship.

But still.

It’s hard not to get excited about the thought that our crush might just maybe, possibly like us back.