What’S The Deal? Two First-Time Homebuyers Hit The Same Roadblocks While Trying To Buy The Same House

Wise advisers told us to buy a home from the head, not the heart. But standing before the bungalow on Spokane’s South Hill one Saturday last month, I felt that electric ripple of first love. I was instantly a goner, and, for the next week, I would be insane.

I felt like a stalker as I phoned the sellers from the sidewalk. I told them I was outside, and waved as the front door cracked open.

Within 15 minutes, I was on the phone to my wife, Frannie, from the living room. “You gotta see this place,” I whispered. The sellers grinned. I told them, trying to pull together my shreds of cool, that we might be interested.

We’d looked off-and-on for six months, and intensely for three. We’d seen dogs, gems, fixer-uppers, homes “priced to sell!” and ones in a “great location!”

We knew what we were looking for. A native Seattleite, I wanted the Capitol Hill pad of my college years - funky charm with good plumbing. My wife, a Sicilian attorney, wanted a steal.

This one was it - well-loved mahogany, original fixtures, updated electrical, kitchen and bath, great yard. We even liked the wall colors. We’d seen nothing like this for the $129,700 price.

After a family wedding later that Saturday, I dragged Frannie, her mother and half the wedding party to the house. The raves were universal. The sellers, who weren’t using a Realtor, grinned again. “We can see you are enamored,” they said.

Another walk-through the next day raised the first of many ignored red flags.

The sellers refused to tell us why they were moving, and refused to work with a Realtor. In a faux-dramatic disclosure, they said that a neighbor occasionally rented to loud students, and that a dog down the street barked weekday afternoons.

Those were small problems, we thought, compared to our consuming passion. And we knew there was competition for our affections; the sellers imposed a moratorium on bids until noon Tuesday.

I pulled up at 12:01 with a formal bid and earnest money. We offered the asking price, contingent on home inspection, appraisal and financing, with them paying our closing costs and leaving some appliances.

As I delivered the bid, yet another red flag popped up: “I don’t even want my fingerprints on that check,” the sellers said. Doing so committed them to our bid, they said.

I didn’t know much about contracts, but I knew that the deal was consummated only when they cashed the check. Hmmm. Frannie was baffled.

The sellers called that evening to reject the bid. They’d gotten another, higher bid, “without contingencies.” We assumed that meant the appliances and closing costs, and felt cheap. We spent a margarita evening mourning the loss of our love over a few thousand dollars. My wife even called to offer trumping the bid. Our shreds of cool were gone.

But our heartbreak ended Thursday morning. The sellers asked if we were still interested. We set a noon meeting. I e-mailed family claiming a “reversal of fortune.”

At that point, Kristy Kromer, my co-worker, walked up. Two days before, she told me she had outbid us on the house, and then relayed a litany of hassles with the sellers. No home inspection? No property disclosure? That seemed weird.

I called Frannie, who said she had just seen the price on the home seller’s Web page increase by $5,000.

More ignored red flags. We were fools for love.

Walking into the noon meeting skeptical, we hammered out a verbal agreement: $135,000, with appliances, some closing costs paid, contingent on home inspection, financing and appraisal. We hugged and hooted as we drove away.

But the red flags kept coming. By that evening, the sellers were refusing a radon test. Frannie was adamant: if they refused, it meant a problem.

The next day, the deal collapsed. The sellers were now refusing to use a standard real estate contract and property disclosure report. I asked to see the results of a home inspection they’d gotten and was refused. “You don’t want an old house, you want a new house,” they said. “You won’t buy this house if you see the inspection report.”

They were right. Negotiating with these sellers was like herding cats. They’re now asking $20,000 more than the original price, and using a Realtor.

It was, in retrospect, a great education. Like the victim of a bad relationship, we were quick to justify our partner’s problems. But we learned that mixing love into money matters is foolish.

We’re now in the process of buying another home, this time through a Realtor. This one that lacks the sex appeal of our first love, but is a much wiser investment.

1. What’s the deal? (by Kristen Kromer) 2. Real Estate: Tips for first-time buyers