This is how I managed to buy a house in a week
Unfortunately, it resulted in my parents' happiness with me
Read part 1 of this two-parter, “I impulsively bought a house!”
Listen to the audio version of this particular essay.
Back at the end of 2011, I went through a pretty bad breakup. We had just closed on a rental property together when he decided that he didn’t want be with me anymore, so his timing really sucked — and I don’t mean to say that so loaded and make him out to be the bad guy — the fact of the matter was that, yes, I wanted to fucking murder him with my bare hands in 2011 and feel his life leaving his body underneath my nerves — but right now in 2021, I feel a lot of fondness and nostalgia for 2011 and 2012.
I had to move out of his house in a hurry in the winter of 2011. I felt so angry and like I had done so much work making the rental a reality for the both of us — at the time, I felt like it wasn’t fair if he got to win and have an amazing life without me after I heroically pushed us for months and instigated a lot of fights because he was so much more financially risk-averse and I just fucking wanted us to a passive income source is that so terrible? — so in the thick of our breakup, I did something I never wanted to do in life.
I borrowed money from my parents.
I borrowed money from my mom’s retirement to buy him out of the rental property we just bought. As a result of that move, I would spend about six years just living so lean and so stressed out over each $1,000-$5,000 thing that broke or got moist or moldy on the rental property — as I simultaneously budgeted super hard to pay my mom’s retirement back. I just didn’t want this woman to not be able to retire because she had a deadbeat daughter siphoning money from her.
And there were these humiliating months that I couldn’t make the month’s payment to her, and I had to tell her I couldn’t swing the $600 that particular month. She was always cool about it to my face, but I’m sure she was super worried and stressed out behind the scenes — because that’s her nature. She’s prone to paranoid, irrational fears about her kids’ well-being, and I must have exacerbated that every time I told her paying her back $600 would crush me during this month or that month.
I learned so much about buying half of a house and then taking over the full house on my salary as a graphic designer — which, if know anything about graphic designing . . . we don’t get paid the big bucks unless you are a superstar. (I was not a superstar.) I also learned a bit about quitclaim deeds, refinancing, rental leases — all that junk. It was difficult to manage it all, but it was also doable.
I moved back in my parents by the way. Because I had nowhere to go. After my breakup, I basically looked around at the place I used to live and then realized something like: “Oh my God, I need to get the fuck out of here.” And so I moved back in with my parents.
At the time, I was just wrecked that I was such a failure, that, as an adult, I had to crawl back to my family home. My parents were actually generally cool about it — probably because they sensed my precarious emotional state — but they also repeatedly told me it was my tendency to emasculate men by talking too loudly and too much that resulted in my current terrible state.
I was so pissed to hear that, that I told my mom, “Actually, my problem in life is that I’m so great and not enough people understand this about me.”
And she did not agree. My mom is bold and direct. So she was basically like, “Nah, man. This is totally not your problem in life, daughter. It’s the first thing I said. It’s because you talk too loudly.”
I love my parents, but it was this fundamental disagreement that made me vow that I would get out of their house ASAP. My parents are great, but moving home and being around them again made me feel kind of institutionalized — like I didn’t have freedom or autonomy. I kind of had to revert to being their daughter and kind of had to flow back into Vietnamese culture, where I was lower on the hierarchy. It was really frustrating to me because I am fussy and prickly and now I demand that people know who I iz all the time. I got a taste of respect at one point, and it’s hard to let that go once you know what respect feels like. I hated that I felt that I was constantly being pressured to be like, less. I wanted to be more! I wanted to be maximum awesome! But I felt like I was kinda constantly told no, be less.
So I started looking for a condo to buy. With zero fucking money. Like, with zero money because I had just depleted all of my savings buying a rental house that was already a stretch. And now I was in the midst of trying to buy my ex out of it — and finding a new place to live.
In hindsight, there was so much baller maneuvering to make it happen. Right now, I look back on my past self, and I was like — wow, doing all of that required so much self-belief and so much conviction!
But at the time, I was pretty depressed and really numb and also really angry. So there was actually a lot of fatalism and despondency and spite that drove my actions and work ethic.
The one cool thing about being despondent and fatalistic is that you just don’t give a fuck. You’re always like, “I don’t give a fuck!” and are able to do things without much self-consciousness. This emotional state led me to look at money benignly — as just a nothingness — as not something tied to my self-worth.
My cousin Jenny was (and is) my real estate agent, and we weren’t super close before my relationship imploded, but we became close after I came back to her and was like, “I know we just spent long months looking at shithole property after shithole property — but I’m gonna need you to do that again. This time just with me. And just with me while I’m on the verge of tears all the time. Can we do that?”
And she was basically like, “Yeah, we can do that.”
I considered renting an apartment like a normal person for all of a hot second. But I just didn’t want to. I didn’t want to own a rental property and then rent an apartment. I also didn’t want to feel so much loss — like, I had just lost a relationship and lost this future that I had envisioned for us. I felt like I had already lost my independence and freedom and also my sense of identity (as one half of a couple) — I just didn’t want to lose money to rent every month on top of that. I was just so fucking annoyed and fed up with losing so much because a dude decided to nope out of our relationship. So that’s why my mind was super wrapped up in buying a condo. I wanted to gain something.
2011 was a nutty time to buy a home. It was a lot like it is today. There were multiple offers put in on houses and I was outbidded constantly by a Chinese national with cash. I think Jenny had to write up like nine offers and spend months shuttling us from house to house, before we got an offer accepted on the rental.
And Jenny had to repeat that when I started looking for a condo.
When I met my condo for the first time, I fell in love with it. I didn’t think I would get it — I thought I would get outbidded again — but I got the condo with an FHA loan, with a lower down payment and a higher interest rate (that’s why I refinanced this year after putting it off for too long. Because my interest rate was especially high).
I remember, I didn’t have money for closing costs because I forgot about closing costs, so I had to secretly borrow from my mom again. I felt pathetic crawling to my mom again for thousands of dollars.
There’s a reason that I love my condo — other than it is cool as hell. I love it because of what it represents, which is freedom and independence. It’s the first place I’ve ever lived in by myself. It’s the first place I got to make every decision with. It was the first place I had dominion over. And I could decorate it and put whatever stuff I wanted in it without some other person yammering in my ear about their bad taste and transmitting their fears through throw pillows. It was the first place where I was really on my own.
And it’s a good size! It’s like 1,000 square feet. I have space for a home office. I have a balcony with a hammock. I have all my plants underneath grow lights. Like, if I had one complaint about this place, it would the shared walls, the lack of west and eastern light, and the lack of garage. That is it.
So I didn’t think I would move any time soon.
But you might’ve heard that I wanted to buy an electric car and that an electric car would require a place to charge — which resulted in me buying a house in August.
Nearly ten years ago, I did some really bananas financial maneuvering because of my circumstances. I co-bought a rental. And then the week after, I had to start buying out and refinancing the rental right away so that it was just in my name. The following month, with no money and probably an amazing debt-to-income ratio, I bought a condo. I had to write a letter explaining myself to the mortgage underwriter, because they were like, “What the fuck?” about what was happening and probably needed to ensure it wasn’t weird fraudulent stuff that I was trying to do. So I had to write a letter about my failures and my lack of foresight and my aloneness.
And the condo made it through underwriting — magically.
I think it was that experience that taught me that you can do shit like that. You can do nutty shit like that and people will let it pass!
In August, when I saw a house under construction that I wanted to buy, I reached out to my cousin Jenny and was like, “Hey, I’m thinking of potentially buying a house. You wanna help even though I’m not a gazillionaire?”
Jenny was like, “Of course!” And I’m sure she didn’t think I was that serious, because I didn’t even think I was that serious. I’m sure she thought I was dipping my toes in the water, because I also thought I was just dipping my toes in the water.
Dude, it escalated fast. I think over the course of an evening, I went from dipping toes to full-on submersion. I asked her if we needed a preapproval to put in an offer on a house (that I haven’t yet seen the construction site of).
She was like, uh, DUH?
She was actually polite. She was like, “Yes. You do.”
She’s older than me and my chị, so I felt stupidly annoying and rudely inconvenient and like I was a burden on her life.
So I went about getting preapproval at two in the morning, after thinking about my text convo with Jenny. At this point — and for about 99 percent of this entire transaction, my mindset was really: I’m just gonna try, and then I’ll stop when someone rejects me or stops me or tells me no."
I didn’t think what I was doing was realistic.
I didn’t think I would get preapproved very fast, for instance. I thought it would take weeks. My loan officer from my recent refinances emailed me in the morning and was basically like, “Is this for real?”
And I got flashbacks to 2011, when mortgage people were also asking me, “Are you for real with this?”
And like in 2011, I got to be like, “Yes! Yes, I am for real!”
Chris, my loan officer was like, “Okay!” and then later that afternoon, emailed me back and was like, “You don’t qualify. Your debt-to-income ratio is too high.”
And I suppose that I could’ve just given up right then, but I think due to my past experience of buying a condo with zero money, I was like — hmm, I don’t think this is right. I think this is possible.
I asked Chris to get on the phone with me. Which she did. And then over the phone, because it’s faster, we started workshopping this problem. Because I’m self-employed, they have to average my income from my past tax returns, so they drew from my 2019 and 2020 taxes. And my accountant is a wizard (who does stuff totally all above-board) helps me reduce my taxable income every year through deductions and fatass retirement contributions so that, duh, I pay fewer taxes.
In that moment with Chris on the phone, I was telling her I can afford the house — though granted, it doesn’t say so on paper. But like, what can we do about this?
Initially, she was like, “Do you have a co-borrower perhaps?”
And I was like, “You mean my parents? No, I would rather kill myself than ask for their help again. WHAT ELSE DO YOU GOT, CHRIS?”
I am not altogether sure how Chris did it, but she figured it out. Part of it involved taking out a HELOC that I erroneously mentioned to her, which brought the debt down. And then another part of it involved calculating the sale of my condo — I can’t keep it anyway because there’s a rental cap. Lastly, a third part of it involved me bring money to the table. I have mutual funds that I could sell but prefer not to, but say I sold some of them. Would that work?
Yes, it did.
She sent me a preapproval letter in the next hour, the same day I requested one. I was like, the fuck? That easy?
So I sent the preapproval to Jenny and asked her to put an offer in on a house I haven’t seen in the inside of — just the outside from when I creeped by it at night.
Jenny drew up the paperwork, gave it to me to sign, and was like, “You’ve seen this house, right?”
I was like, “Totally!” as I was signing the offer. And then I was like, “Which house is it, by the way?”
And Jenny was like, “What do you mean ‘which house’? I THOUGHT YOU SAID YOU’VE SEEN IT!”
I was like, “I have. But there are three of the same house. Is it a window seat or aisle seat? Just curious. I prefer a window.”
Jenny was probably like OMG WTF, STACY on her end. Because she refused to submit my offer. She was suddenly super bent on finding more info about these houses — like whether they exist, who’s building them, which house it is, etc.
I was mildly frustrated Jenny put a stop to the biggest impulse buy ever. But I also trusted her a lot, so I was like, “Okay.”
Which ended up being a really great decision. Because we took a bit of extra time to learn like, important info about the development. Like, one of the things I learned was that the house on lot 4 is the one that is listed, but the house on lot 6 is totally the superior house, but it is unlisted. What can we do about that?
Jenny asked the listing agent, Andrea, on these houses to list lot 6, just for us. Once Andrea listed lot 6, we’ll put our offer in.
Andrea took about five days to do it, which now that I write it out is not even that long, but I was ready to jump out of my skin and punch a puppy because I was so amped from impatience and so resentful over waiting. When she did it, Jenny put in our offer right away.
I talked to my parents about this at some point over family dinner, because I didn’t want them to balk and feel that I am too secretive with them if I pop up one day and am like, “Guess what, motherfuckers? I bought a house.” I felt like, for the sake of our relationship, I needed to prime them with, “Guess what, motherfuckers, I’m thinking about buying a house.”
When I told my parents — I was anxious about it because it felt so much like approval-seeking, and I have a bunch of internal issues related to that and them. I didn’t want them to express pride in me, for being unabashedly capitalistic. I also was concerned that they were gonna start bossing me the fuck around like how they like to do.
It went better than I thought! It was also kind of a let-down? (Sometimes I might crave conflict with my parents?!)
My dad was like, “Good. You should,” without tearing his eyes from CNN.
My mom was like, “You need to sell your condo right away.”
I was like, “I know. But not right away.” Probably will procrastinate and make it stressful on myself just to drive you nuts over how I live my life.
My mom was like, “Do you need help?”
I jokingly said, “Do you have $200,000 to let me borrow?” It’s a joke because I knew they don’t have the cash right now. I wanted them to feel impotent over how they cannot help me.
And with such weird severity, my dad was like, “No. We don’t have any money right now.” Like he was annoyed with his freeloader daughter. Like I am his freeloader daughter!
And I was like: How did he win this weird power struggle just now? What did I just do wrong?
(Later, while I was at home, my dad called me to tell me that he actually found $200,000, if I really needed it. And I was like, touched and annoyed because we have weird dynamics with each other sometimes. It’s like he’s the father-king of our family and I am his first-born-son-who’s-actually-a-girl who lazily sometimes tries to usurp his power, but never can on account of ovaries — so all I can do is psychologically try to fuck with his mind when he becomes extra father-king about stuff. You know, normal father-daughter stuff. Anyway! On the phone, I told my dad I actually don’t need his $200,000, but also, I mentally told myself it’s nice to know because if I really fuck myself somehow with this loan, I will def come crawling back on my hands and knees in humiliation and ask for the help from my parents — but that prob won’t happen. I will fucking cut off my arm and sell it before this happens. But I am all scared I just said that because what if it happens, and then everyone is waiting for me to be a person of my word and cut off my arm later?)
Over the ensuing days, there was so much back and forth negotiating stuff happened between real estate agents that I just waited out. Jenny cared so much that I got a fair deal, and I rested easy because she’s my cousin and I know with every fiber of my being she is doing the most for me, so I was just chilling and wondering, “God, why are you guys taking so long?” as like, an hour passed.
And I got the house.
I learned about it officially when I met Andrea at the construction site. I was like, “Andrea, I have the house, right?”
And she was like, “It is yours!”
And I was like, “Okay, just checking because I didn’t get explicit confirmation.”
And she was like, “We’ve been talking though. I wouldn’t do that to you.” She meant that she wouldn’t just let a Chinese national with cash swoop in and fuck me over. (Okay, I’m editorializing. I’m sure she didn’t think, with specificity, the Chinese national part. That’s just me.)
And I was like: Okay, we just met. I don’t know you! I don’t know your honor!
But I said that just to myself. Not to her. She actually seemed awesome and lovely.
In the coming month, I need to sell my condo because I need money from it to pay for the new house. I have to do this before I go through underwriting for the new house because me getting approved for this loan depends on this sale. This means there will probably be a gap of time between the closing of my condo and the move-in date for the new house where I will have no place to live.
You know, I thought about asking my sister if I could temporarily move in with her and her husband and be roomies for a little bit while I’m in between homes, but my parents put a stop to that when I suggested it. They told me that I must not do anything to disturb and inconvenience my brother-in-law (probably because he’s a man and they need all of the respect that women and other underlings can afford), so I really should just move back in with them (my parents).
Here’s what I think about this:
Why don’t my parents ever worry about how annoying I can be to MY SISTER/THEIR OTHER DAUGHTER? Like, I can be super annoying to my sister, too!
Though I guess, it is nice to see that my folks are at least consistent in their idolization of men.
Moving back in with my parents is an inevitability I already know is my destined future. My sister lives in Renton, man. My parents live in Lynnwood, just 15 minutes away from the new house. I have 400 plants. I can’t bring 400 plants to my sister’s house in Renton. I also can’t abandon my plant babies to my mom’s care because she will be like, “This one is ugly and thus deserves to die,” because she is that kind of person. So I have to move back in with my parents to keep my plants safe. Also to try to bond with them before they become senile.
Also! Maybe my thing in life is that I attempt to live with my parents once every decade, just to see how it feels? I am glad I do not have to borrow money from them this time around.