HHO- Day 2
I will start from the beginning.
Two days ago, much to our surprise, my partner, Jess, and I were approved for a home loan. We were ecstatic! We would be homeowners, no longer pouring tens of thousands of dollars down the drain in rent. We won’t be able to afford anything big or grand or in Takoma Park, and we were ok with that (We kinda had to be. It is our reality.) Maybe one day. But we could find a place to “settle down”, maybe raise a family, have our dogs, decorate and paint as we choose, and build equity in our future. It’s the American dream, after all. Our budget may not allow us to live in the manner to which we’ve become accustomed, but it would be *ours*. And the reward would be knowing that when we went to sleep each night, we would be resting our heads on pillows in *our* bed in *our* house.
We immediately began the hunt for our home together. We searched the internet for hours for listings and drove through neighborhoods writing down the addresses of the perfect homes we saw. We called realtors to set up appointments. (And that was just in the first few hours.)
Sadly, I have woefully neglected documenting our adventures thus far. This is my attempt to retrace our steps. I’m sure it will be lacking in the details that made it seem like it was worth writing about in the first place, but I will do my best to recapture the golden moments of memories we have begun to create in this quest for a house… nay, not just a house, but our new home.
I am choosing to look at it like this: we are looking for a diamond in the rough. We are looking for a “fixer upper” that will remain standing long enough for us to fix it up. We are looking for something a little quirky, like us, but dependable, logical, and reasonable. We are looking for something that we can make ours.
This is our story.
This is our song.
Join us now please in our journey, our quest, if you will, for the perfect house… for us.
This is the Hunt for the House by October.
HHO, Day 1
Yesterday, we thought we’d drive out to a house we saw online in Silver Spring. It was out in the country a bit. The picture we saw on the website was quite cute. We were driving up 29 blissfully ignorant of what awaited us. We turned into the little country community, passed the cute little post office and down another little country road and into the drive. The house on the road wasn’t the house in the picture, so we kept driving up the little gravel road, and we began wondering what all the little miniature “houses” we were passing were. They were one room cabins of sorts on acres of land interspersed with trees. The gravel road made a circle around the land and at the back of the circle was the house in the picture. We were almost there!
We stopped at one point to see what the structures along the way were. Apparently we were in the middle of some sort of museum dedicated to camps. A bit odd, we thought, but… ok. Then we noticed the large covered pavillion in the middle of the grounds and the folding chairs and the giant cross. Whoa. Back up. Giant cross? Oh sweet baby Jesus (to quote my beloved), we were in some sort of religious gathering place, now empty but obviously occasionally teeming with the saved.
I do not say this as a slight to anyone with faith. Believe it or not, I have friends who are Christians. (gasp!) No, I say it as someone who’s been told directly that I am not on the same list to heaven they are because I am, (by our society’s definition and not my own, interestingly enough,) “a homosexual.” If you hadn’t already figured it out, the use of the word “partner” and my affinity for Takoma Park were the giveaways.
Now, just as someone might be uncomfortable at the sight of my rainbow flag bumper sticker on the back of my fuel economic Matrix or my unabashed show of affection to the person I love in public (like holding hands), I am a bit uncomfortable with being secluded in the woods in the presence of a large wooden cross. It was not a comforting thought that the view from my back yard would be a bunch of people who declare how and who I love to be “unholy” and “unnatural”.
Now to me being a “homosexual” is not unnatural at all. Certainly no less natural than a giant cross suspended amongst a collection of model camp buildings surrounding a covered pavillion nestled in the woods of Silver Spring, Maryland. But, I guess that’s the dilemma of the argument between the Christians and the Homosexuals.
As we drove back down the gravel drive to head back onto the main road (praise, Jesus), we noticed a set of barracks, very church camp like in their simplicity and bareness… a compound, if you will. How did we not see that when we pulled into the drive? And, then, any doubt was wiped away when we saw the sign we also somehow failed to see when we entered. (Perhaps our enthusiasm at the idea that we might be driving up to our new home for the first time clouded our normal ability to sense the presence of the chosen people.) It was indeed a church campsite. A training ground, if you will, for future generations… its presence sadly not a comfort to me, but a reminder that our “gay” and “straight” children alike will also be subject to the same ignorant, fearful, displaced, and, ultimately self-hating judgment that often spews from that spout.
OK, I know that sounds really angry, but you “straight” people have already made a lot of decisions for me. You have decided that I *must* love rainbows, I *must* have an affinity for flannel, and I *must* love the L-Word. Hell, even colorblind queers are still expected to be able to redecorate your homes and plan your weddings. You want us to go away, but what would you do without us? (Be careful what you wish for.)
So, I’d like to be able to drink a beer on my hammock in my backyard with my Ipod without you glaring at me as if my mere presence is offensive to you. As Jess said on our way back toward our sinful rental abode, “No amount of lime green kitcheny goodness could persuade us to live there.”
And that was just day one… and one house. The HHO has just started and what a beginning. I can’t wait to see what happens next!