Like getting married and having kids, buying your first property is a rite of passage that changes things forever. When one of your friends leaves the life of the mortgage-free behind, your relationship with them alters in subtle and not-so-subtle ways, no matter how hard the two of you might pretend otherwise. For those whose pals are yet to cross that particular Rubicon, here’s a handy cut-out-and-keep guide on what to expect:
Outings will be much … simpler
Once the initial euphoria of buying their first property wears off, your friend/s will begin to realise that becoming a home owner doesn’t just mean shelling out for the monthly mortgage repayment, but also coughing up for rates, insurance, maintenance and a whole lot of other stuff – and boy, does it all add up. This, in turn, means that social outings take on a whole new tenor. Watch as the non-renters at your table do a passing impression of Edvard Munch’s The Scream when the bill arrives at the end of the night. And prepare to kiss goodbye to Fridays after work scoffing pricey little bowls of olives and even pricier cocktails with your favourite drinking buddies. Your home-owning friends are more likely to opt for a quick vodka and tonic at the local pub. On second thoughts, make that a house red. Actually, better just stick with tap water …
They become obsessed with cleaning
Remember that housemate you had at university? The one who used to sit in the living room with the curtains drawn, eating KFC from the box and playing Grand Theft Auto on your communal TV? He is now an investment banker who has just bought a two-bedroom apartment with ocean views. But that is not the most galling part – just wait until you see the transformation. He has gone from the guy who let mushrooms sprout in the grouting of your shower while you were visiting your parents for the summer holidays to the sort of housekeeper who’d put Marie Kondo to shame. “I totally get why you used to spend every Saturday cleaning the house from top to bottom,” he says, while you smile politely through gritted teeth.
Visits to their house will change
“Come in, come in. Welcome. Uh, do you mind taking your shoes off? Thanks. We don’t want to get dirt on the new Beni Ourain. Here, let me take your jacket and scarf and pop them on the bed. The coat rack’s just for decorative purposes, really. It’s a vintage Eames, actually – picked it up on Etsy. Drink? Here you go. If you just could put your glass on this coaster … we’ve just had the coffee table refinished.”
Their bookshelves will look different
Gone are the dog-eared copies of On the Road, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas and Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. In their place are pristine hardback editions of The River Cottage Cookbook, The Kinfolk Home and Zen and the Art of Japanese Rock Gardens. (OK, so I made that last one up, but you get the idea.)
Conversations are a lot more boring
Forget those lengthy D&Ms with your bestie about the meaning of life, the dearth of suitable romantic partners on Tinder and your plans to do a yoga retreat in Ubud together. These days, your friend’s favourite topics are auction clearance rates, school catchment zones or how great it is that the Reserve Bank has decided to keep interest rates at record lows. That, or trying to persuade you to start saving for a deposit on your own place. Dull? Well, yes. But if it all gets too much you can always insert a light-hearted reminder that your pal has eye-watering levels of debt that will probably take, oh, at least two or three decades to pay off.