Ticking boxes
An arranged marriage with a house she didn’t love caused Vivienne Pearson to wonder what it takes to be happy as a homeowner.
Buying a house can be as big a commitment as a marriage. But do you need to love it to be happy there?
OPINION: ‘‘I, Vivienne, take you, 15 Smith Street, to be my lawfully owned house. I promise to love you, obey all your rates notices and keep your gutters clear … if you will promise to shelter me, keep me comfortable and not develop any expensive repair needs.’’
Buying a house is as big a commitment as a marriage. But what’s love got to do with it? Do you need to fall in love with a house to be happy there?
Or can it start like an arranged marriage, where you are deemed to be compatible and love is left to grow (or not) after the contract is signed?
This question is dear to my heart as, six months ago, I bought a house that I did not love.
On my first inspection, I had no expectation of even liking it.
There were so few houses on the market that to research the area it was easiest to simply visit each one. The severely hedged trees that dominated the garden nearly made me turn back and the steepness of the driveway – even research shouldn’t be that onerous – made me grimace.
Inside, once recovered from the driveway climb, I discovered that the house ticked almost every box on my list: lots of storage; two bathrooms; separate toilet; two living areas; study big enough for two desks. Tick, tick, tick.
Then I discovered that I liked certain parts of the house. It was light and airy and the back garden, though also steep, was a riot of colour.
An arranged marriage with this house was now on the cards.
I found myself wondering whether the budget would stretch to re-doing the front garden and whether the steep driveway might be good as a daily workout.
There was one major stumbling block. At the same time, I was in love with another house. Madly, deeply in love.
This house was a few kilometres away, in a trendier area where we would have been surrounded by friends.
The house was delectable, with white timber weatherboard and purple trims and meticulously maintained decks. It had a flat, spacious garden that was just crying out for a trampoline or even a plunge pool. (Oh, wouldn’t we be the hit of the neighbours!)
My love for this house kept me awake at night.
Unfortunately, the same features that made me love it meant it was out of our price range. So I did ridiculous sums and wildly contemplated whether we could crowdfund the purchase; offering accommodation in the tiny studio out the back in exchange for donations.
I tried to convince myself that, despite being broke and not having a single square metre of storage space, I would be ludicrously happy there.
None of these dreams transpired into reality and despite my better judgment, I bought the house that I never expected to even like, let alone love.
Six months on, though I could not use the word love to describe my feelings for this house, I have certainly grown fonder of it.
I am appreciative of the tickbox features that have proven to suit my family’s needs.
The storage allows us to live without clutter, and the doubledesked study has allowed me and my husband to focus on our businesses without negotiating desk time. We are enjoying the light and airiness of the living spaces – the feature that first turned our thoughts from ‘‘no way’’ to ‘‘maybe’’.
I am also grateful that this house has allowed me to buy into a property market that is on as steep an uphill trajectory as the driveway (which has not contributed to my fitness and continues to irk).
We were able to afford to make some changes to the garden that, once finished, will buoy my positive emotions further.
Though I still yearn for the house that I fell in love with, it no longer keeps me awake at night.
The negatives of the house I bought still frustrate me. The traffic noise is bad. The driveway is steep. The house is not gorgeous.
But all relationships have ups and downs, and I know there would have been frustrations and downsides with the house that still makes my heart flutter.
Will I ever love my house? I’m not sure, but I can feel an inkling that with more time, it might be possible. Practicalities are all very well, but love is a wonderful thing. –Fairfax