I feel embarrassed to admit that when I first bought my four-bedroom cottage in Somerset, it was with a fantasy that I’d meet the love of my life and we’d fill the house with children. Instead, I ended up with a cohort of lodgers.
I bought my rural, almost-off-grid home, just outside Frome, after leaving my fiancé. Together, we’d often talked about selling my cramped studio flat in London and moving to a farmhouse in rural North Wales, where I grew up.
So when I left him, I bought my own cottage – half-thinking that he would come and find me in it. When he failed to materialise, I started dating again.
Of course, it’s a miracle really that I, a 45-year-old Millennial, had been able to afford to buy in the first place – thanks to a bit of family money, selling my London flat and earning enough to get a good mortgage. For many, it’s almost impossible to get on the property ladder.
So my friends were initially protective over the risk of gold-digging men. ‘You don’t want a man who’s only after you for your house,’ they would tease.
Some were more positive, suggesting that flaunting my lovely, detached home – on a third of an acre! – might bag me a husband.
After buying her own home, Katie Glass’s friends suggested it might help her bag a husband, but she says men seemed put off by it and instead made assumptions about her ‘privilege’
Boy, they could not have been more wrong. At best, I have found men are totally indifferent to the fact that I own a home and, at worst, it seems to act as a man repellent.
I met a nice solicitor who impressed on me that he owned his own place in a nearby village. We went for a few drinks, the conversation flowed, the attraction seemed matched.
But things went sharply downhill on our second date, when he picked me up for dinner at the local pub. My house – a fat cottage but no country pile – was bigger than he’d expected, he said. He noted how much I must be earning to live in it. He stopped trying to discover who I was and instead began making assumptions: I must come from a privileged background; I must be very independent; I must never usually date men from his background.
This was insane talk to me, as he was solidly middle-class. But it seemed I’d dented his pride. He did not offer to pay for dinner and I was relieved not to hear from him again.
Another man I briefly dated – who, despite being in his 40s, still lived with his parents – showed his irritation by making endless digs about what a poor job I was making of the renovation work – and how he’d tackle it differently.
The defensiveness of these men was off the charts. My dates would, unbidden, launch into a full rundown of their own financial position and their intention to get a mortgage, while aggressively listing the reasons they hadn’t yet – when I hadn’t enquired and didn’t care.
Friends report similar experiences. ‘My ex-boyfriend was so jealous of my house that he became fixated on buying one of exactly the same value,’ said one. ‘He started sending me Rightmove links to properties, which he seemed to think would impress me. Instead, I just thought he was delusional because I knew he couldn’t afford it. He was always making nasty remarks about how “not everyone can just buy a house and do it up”.’
She sold her cramped studio flat in London and moved to a charming four-bed farmhouse in rural North Wales
One of Katie’s dates said that her property, on a third of an acre, was bigger than he expected. Another made snide comments about how he’d tackle the renovation work differently
Another friend admits: ‘Even if they like you, it pushes them away.’ Her ex-husband was so frustrated that she held the house deeds in their marriage that he ‘wouldn’t work and was constantly angry with me’.
All of this comes as a surprise to me. Property ownership is not something I look for, but if I was dating a man with a decent-sized home, I’d consider it a bonus. I have a male friend I’d never particularly fancied, until one evening, drinking in the garden of his gorgeous Georgian pile, I found myself dreaming about marriage. I also dated a lord whose stately home impressed me far more than his title.
Yet men don’t seem to find women’s houses nearly so intoxicating. Perhaps this is because women’s interest in equity stems from a time when we married because our financial – and domestic – security depended on it. Until 50 years ago, lenders refused single women mortgages. It was only after the Sex Discrimination Act 1975, which banned discriminating against someone because of their sex or marital status, that things changed.
Now more women than ever are applying for mortgages on their own. Skipton Building Society has recorded up to 11.5 per cent more solo female applicants than solo male applicants in recent years, especially among younger women – in their 20s and 30s.
Only one man I dated stands out as an exception. The first time he came to my cottage, he cooed and compared himself to Elizabeth Bennet arriving at Pemberley. To be honest, that gave me the ick.
I haven’t felt truly disheartened. Indeed, I’ve found men hating my house to be a boon – I’ve thrived alone among the peace and roses.
But I do wonder if it will turn out that men simply don’t like girlie pink cottages with beams to bang their heads on? Anyway, soon I plan to swap it for a penthouse in London or a one-bedroom garden flat – because I’m bored of country living. Perhaps then they’ll come running.
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