It’s a long walk to meet someone in the middle... but to have a successful relationship of any kind... you have to learn.
You have to step over many things along the way; pride, ego, perception, frustration or anger, selfishness... oh the list is long which is why such a small distance can take so long to traverse.
After 20 plus years of marriage, I’m still learning how to do this... this compromise thing. We had thought to buy a house, because people do that. We began at the beginning... with me going back and forth over the idea a million times aloud debating the pros and cons while he absentmindedly agrees. That’s who I am in this marriage. I fill the air in our home with a lot of random thoughts as I’m one of those fun people that throw everything at the wall to see what sticks... then I like to brainstorm.
He’s a clear and concise decision maker. That is why he is a good other half for me. We both decided what we really wanted in the house and we set about looking at options.
I want to have a graceful old home that is full of character and stories. Growing up in the South, the stately and airy rooms of such a place represented comfort and grace.
So there is reason behind my madness. I’m thinking really established and set up so the hard work is done. No digging sprinklers and planting grass... no redoing kitchen cabinets... no rehabbing... just a move in and enjoy life.
In my head I’m thinking maybe planting some flowers, gloss up some wood work and then maybe just read a book on the graceful porch... of a house that only exists in my head. I want to be able to walk places... good places to eat, good places to shop, an area where I can walk my dog... you know, in town.
He has completely different things in mind. He wants nice and clean. A blank slate... in the middle of nowhere.
We are peas and carrots. We are green and orange. At least we are vegetables together... but house wise, we are on different planets. I thought well this is a perfect example of compromising. So we each started to house hunt randomly on our phones. We made a point of sharing the ones we really like. It began to go like this.
Me: I love this one....
Me: look at the backyard....
I stressed a little. It was beginning to look bad for my old gorgeous house. But I knew that I could compromise and we could find the perfect house for us. Then he started texting me pictures...
Him: this rocks
Me: nooooooooooooooooooooooooo, hard no
Him: look at the shop
At some point, we were going to have to reconcile that we were on completely different pages. So we took the next obvious step... we had a realtor field both our ideas and kinda like House Hunters, give us a few options.
It went from bad to worse... we saw a house that was amazingly small with a great location and an utterly horrible smell. It was a complete fixer upper and my husband was price tag stuck on the possibilities. It looked like a lot of hard work... I’m not a physical hard work kinda girl so I was like okay let's move on to the next option.
The next option was my dream house. I pulled up to the curb and fell in love. Teenager, heart beating out of my chest... love.
That beautiful house was all honey colored wood with high ceilings, fireplaces made of stone, and the glorious floors... oh those floors stretched from room to beautiful room. A living room, a dining room and a library and I floated room to room bubbling and gushing over the idea of this house. I guess in my romantic state, I missed the rotted roof, the porch falling off, the walls with the mildew.
We sat in the truck afterwards and exhausted with the whole process, we knew what to do. We signed a lease on a great townhouse.
Kalynn Brazeal is a conservative, Christian wife/mom/country girl carrying around an MBA, several decades of business experience and a strong opinion. Dividing her time between Grand Lake and North Dakota, she continues to share her column on life, liberty, the pursuit of happiness and cake. She can be reached by email at firstname.lastname@example.org.