My partner and I bought a fixer-upper house. Remodeling it together ruined our relationship.

• My partner and I had different living styles, and I thought moving to a new house would fix it.
• We got a major fixer-upper that took forever to make progress on.

The first time I ate dinner at Martin's house, we slid stacks of books and papers aside to make room for our plates. Half-finished construction projects loomed in every corner of the house, and walking through Martin's mudroom required sidestepping and a fair amount of caution. His closets and drawers bulged at the seams.

Martin didn't clear out as much as he'd promised, but we worked on it together. A few months later, Martin received a new job offer out of state and asked me to join him. I was optimistic that moving to a new house — one that was ours, not just his — would fix our cohabitation problems.

We got a fixer-upper

"I don't think a fixer-upper is the right choice for our family," I told Martin. We'd been together a couple of years and our family consisted of the two of us and my 16-year-old dog, Lucky. I said I didn't want Lucky living out the end of his life in a construction zone, but I might have been projecting — I didn't want to live in a construction zone.

We ended up with a major fixer-upper that required a full gut, so we rented a small cabin nearby for six months to do the messy work without living in it. But remodeling projects almost always take longer than expected, and ours was no exception.

We moved from Montana to Northern California, and I wanted us to explore the many cities, mountains, beaches, and vineyards within a few hours' drive of us. Instead of exploring our new area, we spent our time on endless dump runs, trips to Ikea, and too much takeout.

The project was taking forever

After six months, we moved into our house but didn't have a kitchen, flooring, heat, or interior doors — including in the bathroom. Construction materials cluttered our dusty living space. I bought a coat rack for our bath towels — which doubled as a door — and got creative with Instant Pot cooking. I wore a down jacket and hat inside and bought Uggs to keep my feet warm and protected from splinters.

A year later, the house was livable, but far from done. I escaped to Mexico for a few months because Martin said he'd make more progress if I weren't underfoot, but the pandemic ended my trip early. I came home and found not much had changed.

This was the second time a remodeling ended a relationship of mine

Almost 20 years prior, my then-husband and I had remodeled an old home. We'd worked together but grown apart, and as that project neared completion, our marriage ended with it. I should've known better this time, but my optimism fooled me. I also foolishly believed Martin and I would develop compatible living styles just from a change of location.

I decided to leave, which ended our relationship, but moving out of the never-ending remodel had a silver lining: Martin and I salvaged our friendship.