“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll find someone to share it with.”
That’s what a loan officer told me after I had informed her that, yes, I would be attempting to buy a home by myself. There was pity in her voice, and if it wasn’t for the sake of professionalism, she probably would have said, “Whoa. You’re buying a home alone? SPINSTER ALERT!”
I’ve wanted to own a home as long as I can remember. Some people dream of getting married, of having children, of becoming a doctor. I longed to have a permanent address.
I loved what it symbolizes: stability, family, love, comfort, success. I imagined having a guest bedroom for visiting friends and family, and a fenced yard for a dog to run around in. And while there wouldn’t be the pitter-patter of little feet, I would have a partner alongside me.
My dream has taken a slight detour. My American dream has become an American nightmare.
30 was kind of a rough year for me. I struggled with some health issues, my long-term boyfriend and I broke up, and the place I worked for was bought out, and quickly went down the toilet.
Suddenly I saw everything I had worked really hard for slipping away. Goodbye income. Goodbye partner. Goodbye sanity. Goodbye American dream.
Not to get all Langston Hughes, but what does happen to a dream deferred?
I thought a lot about how I had gotten to that point. I must have taken a hard left somewhere in life to be 30, alone, and possibly jobless in the near future.
As I went through my rolodex of memories, I realized that not having anyone there with me has never stopped me before.
I’ve moved to different states by myself. I’ve taken vacations by myself. I’ve signed for apartments by myself. I’ve gone hiking by myself. I’ve gone to dinner by myself. I’ve gone to the movies by myself.
My entire adulthood has been spent doing the things I want, regardless of whether someone else was along for the ride.
My dream didn’t get deferred, it simply changed.
So yes, I will be buying that house by myself. It won’t be as big, and I won’t have someone to argue about paint colors with. It may not have a fenced yard, but my friends and family will still be welcome. And while it may no longer be the American dream, it will be my American nightmare.
Big thanks to RollerGiraffe for listening to me whine about this, and inspiring me to write this post