Sunday, March 18, 2007

Well, if I'm keeping a diary of the significant moments in my life, I should probably make a note of the fact that we just learned we didn't get the house we bid on last weekend. It's been a fucked up experience. I bet this is something I'll forget if I don't write it down -- how really upsetting it is to find out that we're not getting that fucking place. Especially for W, but everything is harder on her than it is on me. Actually -- I was very, very upset when we got the call, but at the moment I'm kind of over it. A different feeling has replaced the feeling of loss. Now I'm just sort of pissed off and depressed -- just that black mood that makes you want to say, "fuck it. Fuck everything. I'm sick of it."

And I guess that kind of gets to what bothers me now. When our realtor called us and told us they wouldn't accept our offer (I'm telling you, no one is going to pay what they are asking for that house), I was sad because I wanted to live in that house. But now I'm pissed off because we have to fucking start from scratch again. And I'm scared, because we're starting to run out of time, and I basically refuse to buy a house that feels like a major compromise. I want W to have a nice place to live, something that represents what she wants out of a house. I can't feel okay about buying a house that feels like a cop out. That poor woman has stood by me for eleven years now, and never in those eleven years has her life been what she wanted it to be. Now we have an opportunity to start taking steps toward getting her what she wants. I don't want her to be sad about the house we buy, I want her to be happy. I guess that's really what it comes down to.

This last week has been wild. We put in an offer on this house last Saturday. I was on spring break, so I had jackie wilson to do, and I spent the entire week thinking about how to handle the negotiation, and then sweating bullets while we waited to hear back from the sellers. This is another reason why it's so upsetting not to get the place.

But there's something else important about this experience. I have been in charge of handling the negotiation. And W and I both felt that I kind of "grew up" in the process. I finally felt like a man: I knew that my approach was the right one, and that I was handling this very big, important thing for my family in the best way possible. I wasn't acting like an irresponsible kid, as I have with basically every other major decision in my life; I researched and thought and got advice from the right people, and as it turned out, each decision I made was the right one. The only wrong thing is that we didn't get the place -- but I'm telling you, no one is going to pay that price for that house.

Even talking to my father -- this is a big thing for me -- I could tell that he felt I was doing everything right. In fact, a few weeks ago, he tried to tell me that maybe we shouldn't buy a house right now. And I talked him into seeing things from my perspective. In the end, I'd won him over. I don't believe that has ever happened before. When we were talking about this house, we were like signing off -- you know, "alright, well, I guess I'll talk to you later; great talking to you; keep me posted," and the like, it can go on for a very long time sometimes -- and I sort of blurted out, "do I have your blessing, Dad?" And he said yes. That was a good moment.

Another moment along those lines that sounds insigificant but was an important one for me was this: we're talking about my situation, and my Dad asks me about his mortgage situation. He asked whether he could get a lower rate if he had a longer-term mortgage. Now, really. That sounds incredibly insignificant. But it was nice for me -- he saw me as an authority on this shit.

Of course, I gave him the wrong answer (I said yes). I looked it up online later and discovered that it seems the opposite is the case. Beautiful, isn't it? That sums some shit up right there.

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