Investment Property

I think most men can be put into one of two categories: prime real estate or fixer-upper. When I was younger, I was always going for the prime real estate. Sometimes we call it the “whole package” or “Mr. Right.” Perhaps the especially whimsical among us call him “Prince Charming.” There’s nothing wrong with prime real estate, if you can afford it, or if you get lucky enough to stumble into a sweet bargain for some previously undervalued property. By and large, however, prime real estate is either nearly impossible to find on the market (it gets snatched up pretty quickly – women are no dummies!) or there is such intense demand we often find ourselves outbid.

But the fixer-upper. There are many more fixer-uppers on the market. You have to be careful and discriminating, of course. You need a solid foundation with which to work. Does the roof need to be replaced? Will it cost a fortune to renovate? You have to make sure that you’re looking at something fixable, not a property that should be condemned. Rotting foundation, vermin infestations, squatters – you need to make sure the property is free from squatters, or at least that they can be easily displaced. Once you’ve determined you have a fixer-upper, you might just be in luck.

I went to school with a classic fixer-up. He and I had a brief dalliance, but mostly we were friends. Now this guy, we’ll him Victor – was (and is) great in many ways. Incredibly smart, funny, charming. And really good-looking. But while we were in school he went through this bohemian phase where he grew a straggly beard, wore the same clothes almost every day, and smoked so that he generally smelled of dirty hair and cigarettes. How unsexy can you get? He had been neglected and fallen into disrepair. So I took it upon myself to help Victor out. I wrote him a “memo” titled “10 Ways Victor Can Smell Better.”

The bullet points ranged from washing his hair every day to not smoking in his dorm room. I also gave him guidelines for how long he could wear certain items of clothing before washing them (underwear: once; jeans: thrice). While I don’t generally recommend such an aggressive approach to renovations, it totally worked with Victor. Not only did he heed my advice, he actually thanked me for changing his life. He used those words! If you were to see Victor today, all you would know is that he is prime real estate. Good looking, successful and off the market. Happily married with a new baby.

I identified Ricky as a fixer-upper early on. Smart, funny, basically good-hearted (no vermin infestation), but he was fearful of commitment and had some general boorish tendencies that needed to be corrected. Cosmetically, all was good. Well, mostly – I have started making him over a bit and there are certain clothes I’ve declared off-limits. I actually try to get him to eat more and work out less because he looks better naked than I do, but I digress. The main areas in need of fixing had to do with his conflict resolution skills (non-existent) to his general playboy ways. Shockingly, the playboy ways were the easiest to correct. All that was required was my taking a stand in my request for fidelity. But the communication is an ongoing battle. We have so many “men are from mars, women are from venus” moments that make me want to jump off a bridge. I know I wanted a fixer-upper, but the contractor lied about how much this was going to cost and how long it was going to take!

Last week Ricky and I were in co-habitating heaven. I was saying things to him like “isn’t living together the most fun thing ever?” and “how excited were you today to get home to see me?” But on Saturday there was an “incident” that could have been easily squashed with a sincere and prompt apology. But that was not to be. One long drawn out I'm sorry and two days later and we are still on the rocks. I don’t even know if we’re going to make it. I hope we do, but soon there could be two fixer-uppers back on the market- Ricky and me.