The Single Life: Putting yourself on the market

Dating for singles is like looking for a house. You have to consider appraisals, disclosures, inspections, title searches and long-term value.

Sometimes the deal is made strictly on emotion. Everything feels right. Even the little things that nag around in the corners of your mind seem to be fixable given enough time. The curb appeal is perfect, so you figure the rest of the place should be, too.

If you go out on a date just for the sake or getting out of the house, it’s doubtful that either of you will whip out your comparables or worry over your competition. But you know you will be doing that comparison almost immediately as you sit down to a dinner table or head to the dance floor.

OK. Your date smells nice. Hair is good. Body could use a little repair, but nothing that can’t be fixed. Nice smile and dressed appropriately. By the end of the evening you notice that the designated driver rule has gone out the window. You have nursed one glass of wine. There comes an awkward appraisal.

Maybe I should drive? And so you do. Thank you for a super evening and do you think you’ll be able to make it home yourself? We’ll get together soon. Or not.

Another time you are at a neighborhood block party. A mixed group of marrieds and a few singles. You really don’t have to have a date, just BYOB and some snack stuff and show up. I know my curb appeal, so I bring a six pack of imported beer. To have to search around for

the bottle of good red wine I thought about bringing smacks of market value.

The host and hostess have thoughtfully written just that on their name tags. Most everyone else either knows each other from past history are off in small groups talking about the increasing rate of crime or who had the closest to the pin score yesterday. For a single this is a gathering where disclosures, inspections and title search are all in full swing.

You just couldn’t set up a better place for getting into the neighborhood multiple listing service. Not only will you be looked over by prospective owners, but by those who know all there is to know about where you live and who may be slightly suspect of a new single in the mix.

“...Oh, so you’re the one that bought the Major’s house? Poor soul. You know he was slowly poisoned by his wife the whole time they were living there. He is at peace now and his wife is in Jail. I swear you just never know about people ... what was your name again? You are single, right? Come over and meet Derek. He doesn’t actually live in the neighborhood, but comes to this party every year. Derek is in the real estate business.”

Derek turns out to be a nice guy. He is a retired securities trader and looks me straight in the eye. We exchange pleasantries and then he introduces me to his girlfriend.

A pleasure to meet you both. I am wondering if it would be rude to just disappear, when the Host announces that the buffet is ready. It would be bad manners if you were looking at property, to walk into a house, take one look and announce to everyone that the place is too messy, especially since they feed an elephant in their living room.

So I stay. The line moves around the food quickly. Some neighbors have even written descriptions of their dish. I like that.

As night falls, the dance music is turned on. There was a time I would have stayed around until invited for a spin, but not for now. You cannot tell the players without a program. You cannot buy a house without 14 pages of disclaimers, disclosures, inventories and exemptions.

It will take any single awhile to be comfortable in that setting. Singles just have to keep on believing in or moving away from their ever changing market value.

Mary Ann Linforth is a Green Valley freelance writer. Contact her at maryannlinforth@aol.com.