My name's Kate and I'm addicted to Rightmove.
I don't know why, really. I can't afford a home of my own right now. Despite being in my early thirties and saving up as much money as possible over the last few years, I just can't afford it. I've got my deposit sorted, but it's the monthly mortgage repayments and other expenses that make it so out of my reach. But that doesn't stop me (sometimes obsessively) trawling Rightmove.
In some ways, it feels like a form of self-punishment. Rubbing my own nose in it with nice things that are out of my reach. In another way, it feels inspirational and motivational, spurring me to curb any unnecessary expenditure with reminders that more money in the bank equals a higher chance of actually getting the home of my own that I desire.
Sometimes, one house in particular will stand out. It'll catch my eye in a 'love at first sight' way. I dream up all of the ways I'll make it my own. The bathroom I'll put in, the kitchen, how I'll furnish the bedrooms, even down to the prints that'll adorn the walls, and the doormat that'll greet visitors to my little home. Then I come back down to Earth when I'm greeted with the 'SOLD STC' message underneath the images. Onwards to another house to temporarily fall in love with.
I guess, like with dating apps, it's probably for the best to briefly fall in love with the idea of someone (or in this case, something) than it is to actually end up with what you've got your eye on. The heady, dreamy idea is usually better than reality, isn't it?
I'm sure the reality would entail endless problems and stress and throwing money down the drain to the point I'd probably have to sell the damn house as soon as I'd finished renovating it. I'm always drawn to the doer-uppers, rather than the show home type. Just like with dating apps. And even though I'm wise enough to know it'd be a lot of heartache, probably, I just can't help myself.
"I'm in my armchair property developer era..."
I'm in my armchair property developer era, clearly. I love looking at run down houses, even the ones that send a shiver down my spine. The worst ones I send to my Mum, because we love bitching about how bad a particular house is together. It's how we bond.
'If I owned that, I'd get rid of that straight away', 'What were they thinking?!', 'This hasn't been decorated since the seventies!' etc. etc. It's easy to feel like you know best when you're sat at your desk on your third consecutive hour of Rightmove that day, procrastinating from doing the actual work that'll help you to earn the money to buy a house, run-down or not.Plus, it's easy to hypothesise when you haven't actually got the cash to come up with the goods. It's easier to dream and to imagine all of the 'what ifs' when you can't actually make those dreams a reality. I guess that's why so many of us talk about what we'd do if we won the lottery, despite not even playing it...
Rightmove, to me, is part and parcel of dreaming about a future that I'm worried I'll never have. Without a partner, or anyone, to share the expense of buying a house with, it's practically an impossible dream. Even the cheapest of houses in my area are just too expensive. Even the cheapest properties of all are too expensive. (And despite being a Millennial, I didn't spaff all of my money up the wall on avocado on toast, thanks.)
It's harmless dreaming, really, isn't it? But it does serve as a constant reminder that our generation are quite royally screwed over right now. Property prices are astronomical. As an example, my parents' house cost £57K in 2001, and it's now worth £240K.
How any of us are supposed to cough up that amount of money, is beyond me. How we can afford to throw a grand a month at a mortgage alone - not including all of our other bills - is beyond me. How people do actually manage to do it - you guessed it - is beyond me.
Friends who do own homes did it, not alone, and back when the property market wasn't quite as bad as it is now. If only I'd had my head screwed on right at the same time as they did, I might not be in this mess... There are so many of us in this mess though, that surely we can't solely blame ourselves for it?
Anyway, I'm off to buy a lottery ticket...
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