“A good home must be made, not bought.”

- Joyce Maynard

I relearned another life lesson these past couple of weeks, and that, of course, is that love is blind.

We've all experienced that “take your breath away” moment when meeting that someone special for the first time. Suddenly your thoughts start racing a mile a minute, you can't sleep, and you certainly can't think straight, all because your heart is telling you that this is “the one.” The truth of the matter is that it isn't so much the person we're thinking about but, the possibilities that the individual represents. And this has been my mentality ever since I first walked through that front door and feasted my eyes on bare wood floors, a tiled shower, and glass blocked walls.

You see, my heart was longing not for a sweet voiced, hourglass figure with soft skin but, a house with vinyl siding and a deck overlooking the river. You see, after years of renting, I finally decided I wanted to purchase my first home. Who says I don't want to settle down? For me, I was just waiting for the right one. And, like any relationship, whether that be feminine or framework, I knew there would be issues to overcome. But I figured after some time and tender loving care, the end result would be something I could live with.

So there I was in the doorway when I went from being an adult, to a schoolboy having his first crush. My rose-colored glasses were all I could see through as I went from room to room. The only problem with those glasses though is that, although they might be on, they certainly weren't in the best focus.

Around every corner there was something new to experience, and I realized as I walked the property why it is that convicted felons get marriage proposals in prison from absolute strangers. Everyone who has been bitten by the love bug can only see the potential and will quickly write off any major flaws as simple quirks of character.

The hole in the roof wasn't a potential for water damage so much as a way for natural light to come into the kitchen. The rusty water coming out of the pipes was, through my eyes, not a bad thing but the house's way of making sure I was going to get my daily dose of vitamins and minerals. To me the house was filled with life, albeit the life was mostly in the form of ants and termites. But that didn't matter. No one's perfect.

I'd love to say that this little tale ends with me getting the girl, um, sorry, the house, but just like in school, someone else will be taking this beauty to the prom. And just like that, my pipe dream went down the tubes.

Am I sad? A little. Will there be another one just for me? Of course. But as anyone who has ever felt that pang in the heart knows, you never forget your first.

Auburn native Bradley Molloy's column appears here each

Sunday. He can be reached at

lovonian@hotmail.com