Why I’d rather choose a finished house these days

By Regine Rauin | When Rooms Tell Stories

I think we need to talk about potential.

Potential is a wonderful thing.

An old house has potential.

An empty room has potential.

A piece of land has potential.

A work of art can have potential.

But a person?

Of course a person has potential too.

I simply want to make a rather important distinction:

Potential is not the same thing as suitability.

A house can be a fantastic renovation opportunity.

It can have an incredible location.

High ceilings.

Beautiful windows.

History.

And you can still decide that you don’t want to live there.

Because the heating doesn’t work.

The roof leaks.

The electrics date back to 1954.

And six months into the renovation you suddenly realise:

 

I didn’t actually want a renovation project.

I wanted a home.

That is the lesson I’ve taken from this whole story.

I don’t want a man whose potential makes me excitedly calculate everything that might be possible.

I want a man who makes me think:

“How wonderful could our life become if we both simply remained ourselves?”

That is completely different.

Because then I don’t have to change him.

And he doesn’t have to change me.

We both arrive with something.

Our histories.

Our quirks.

Our friends.

Our music.

Our opinions.

Our lives.

And then we look at the whole thing and ask:

Does this fit?

Not perfectly.

But beautifully enough to live in.

 

Perhaps that is the point.

A finished house doesn’t mean nothing will ever need doing.

Of course something will break eventually.

Of course you’ll redecorate.

Of course you’ll argue.

Of course a door will stick somewhere.

Life is not a new-build estate.

But the basic structure should work.

The heating works.

The roof doesn’t leak.

The electrics aren’t making interesting noises.

And there is somewhere for you to sit.

Perhaps even somewhere that was made with you in mind.

And when I come home, I don’t want to think:

“What could this become?”

I want to think:

“Bloody hell. This is lovely.”

 

Perhaps that is the real lesson when it comes to dating:

You don’t need to become better at fixing people.

You need to become better at seeing them.

Not their possibilities.

Their reality.

Not their future.

Their present.

Not who they might become.

Who they are bringing to the table today.

And then you get to choose.

Not from fear.

Not from scarcity.

Not from the hope that someone will eventually treat you the way you need to be treated.

But from one rather simple question:

“Does the life that becomes possible with this person feel like my life?”

If the answer is yes, things get interesting.

If the answer is no, nobody has to be the villain.

Perhaps the house is wonderful.

It’s simply not yours.

 

And perhaps that is the loveliest realisation of all:

You don’t have to look for someone you can love.

There are probably plenty of those.

You can look for someone you actually want to live with.

That is a completely different category.

Because love can take you onto a building site.

But you don’t have to live there.

At some point, you are allowed to brush the dust from your shoes, close the door behind you and say:

“Very interesting. But I think I’d rather have a finished house.”

And then you go home.

Somewhere there is already a place for you.

The heating works.

And hopefully someone has put something delicious on the hob.

 

 

Now that would be a happy ending. 🥰🗝️

About the Author

I'm Regine Rauin, also known as Mystic Maveress.

I read rooms the way other people read tarot cards.

And every now and then...

...I write a book.

→ Discover the WOHNUNGsREADING

🗝️ Because many of the answers are already living with you.