Fear of Commitment

June 15, 2004, 5:49 p.m.
Over the past five years I have lived in five apartments in four cities and two different countries. I love the adventure and the newness of living in different places, even if it is just a new home a few blocks away from the old one.

When it comes to real estate, I am more of a love ‘em and leave ‘em kinda gal than a settle-down-til-death-do-us-part person. I just cannot seem to develop a loving, enduring relationship with a place.

But that is about to change.

A few weeks ago, J and I bought a house. It is a beautiful house (or at least it will be when it is finally built) with a little patch of grass that we can call our own. I have fantasies about walking barefoot through the grass while it is still wet with dew, having picnics outside in the summer sun, and reading in front of the fireplace in the winter.

I also have nightmares about living in the suburbs, spending our weekends working in the yard, and standing in the driveway in my bathrobe chatting with the neighbors. But by far my biggest fear is making a commitment to a place.

Does buying this house mean we’ll start spending our money on wind chimes, designer drapes, and topsoil instead of Thailand, Europe, and Tahiti? Could we find a prettier house for a better price if we kept looking? What if we discover that we are better suited to loft living in the heart of the city than a house on the edge of wine country?

These are the questions that are running through my mind. And even though I know the answers (no, because we promised ourselves travel would be a top priority. We will never find a prettier house at a better price and we should know because we spent three years looking for this house. We tried living in the city and we hated it; the suburbs are definitely where we were meant to be), I cannot stop overanalyzing the decision.

The idea of developing a long-term relationship with a place has me thinking about all of the relationships I have – or have ever had.

I started thinking about the best friend I had in kindergarten who I suddenly stopped talking to four years ago, about the boy I fell in love with at 14 who broke my heart at 23, about the friend in Toronto who sends me letters every week, about the girl who has taken me to all of the best happy hours in town and always forgives me when I go three weeks without calling, and the boy I married who keeps me sane (and laughing).



I have realized that I am as excited about making a commitment to this house as I was about making a commitment to J - when something is right, you just know it.