7 // Property and the parents

To own your own home is the Australian dream, and at the time of meeting the last real man he was on a mission to find a place to call his own. I too found myself on this journey.  My opinions and thoughts seemed valued, and I often found myself being asked for advice.

One Saturday afternoon I was undertaking routine maintenance around my own home when my phone suddenly went off. “I think I’ve found a house,” the message read. I giggled to myself; I’d only been hearing this line for about a month. Here we go again I thought. I clicked on the link he’d sent me and flicked through the photos of what appeared to be a solid looking family home, and clearly owned by a couple who truly loved the colour green!

“Errk, they love green don’t they,” I replied. After a few more texts back and forth about what would need to be done to make it a good investment my final words were: If it’s really what you want and it’s in your budget, then go for it, tiger. I just don’t feel it’s worth over A$500,000.

He made an offer which was accepted, and suddenly, he was a first home owner. Even though the purchase had nothing to do with me, I found myself incredibly happy for him. He’d worked so hard for this, and I was really, really, proud of him. To take the plunge in today’s housing market, and on your own, I had nothing but respect.

Fast forward two months and moving day arrived. How does one offer help to a Taurus I thought; knowing it dents a bull’s ego when someone asks if they need a hand. I phrased my offer in a way that was more, “Hey, if you find you need an extra set of hands I’ll be around.” He said he’d organised a truck and that he’d be right. Typical last real man, always a man with a plan. So I lied low and let him enjoy the experience of moving into his first place on his own. At least, that’s what I thought.

“Do you want to come and check out the house?” I laughed at the text the following morning. He’d only been in the house 12-hours and wanted me to see the place. I ventured down, armed with a few cleaning products, and got the grand tour. I really liked the place, even the location.

He’d started painting and I offered to do the edging, which he hated doing. I’d been there for about an hour when his phone went off. It was his Mum. A few minutes later I walked into the lounge where he was painting. “Mum’s coming down. It’s absolutely up to you if you want to meet her. You’re welcome to stay or if you want to leave you can. Just don’t blame me if it’s awkward.”

My heart started to pound. I came to see the bachelor pad, help with the painting and possibly be rewarded with a little afternoon delight. How did this suddenly turn into meet the parents? I suddenly felt very nervous. I’m such a polite individual, leaving just seemed too rude, I had to stay. “It’s ok; I’ll stay,” I said softly. He looked at me and smiled, almost like he was happy that I was staying.” If only a smile could cure the sudden nausea that had crept up on me. Was I ready for this? Absolutely, not!

His Mum arrived. I could hear the banter in the kitchen before the sounds started to edge closer to me. Before I knew it, we were all in the same room and introductions were made. “Hello, nice to meet you,” was the best I could muster. It was pretty clear that Mum didn’t meet many girls her son dated. She did know about me, so that was something. She was actually pretty cool and we quickly clicked. We chatted and had a cup of tea before it was announced that Dad too was also paying a visit. By this stage what I needed was a bottle of vodka, more so than a cup of tea.

Dad arrived and we were introduced, however by now I felt like I was intruding. I gave it about half an hour then said I had to go. I wanted to stay, but it was only fair that the last real man got to enjoy the first day in his new house with his family.

We said our goodbyes and I headed home. I was glowing. My man had a house and was happy. He had a great girl who loved him, even if he hadn’t realised it yet, and not only had I met his friends, but also the family. It was now that I started to feel like a bona fide girlfriend.

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The Dating Diary

The dating diary are cuttings from the life of a single girl that will make you laugh, cry, and give hope that prince charming does exist.

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