I periodically get calls from my mother that lasts approximately 15 minutes and are focused solely on the state of my parents’ finances.
My boyfriend (let’s call him Carl) and I have some shared values and goals: We one day hope to have children and own our own home (probably not in Vancouver—I don’t have a million bucks!). We like discussing politics and world issues. We like reading, and watching documentaries together. We go on walks and gossip about our mutual co-workers (working in the same office as your significant other isn’t so weird when you’re in different departments). But what we do not share is an idea of how we should be using our money.
“In regards to money, work, housework, leisure, time, parenting, and emotions, people with working-class roots wanted to go with the flow and see what happened, while their spouses with middle-class backgrounds wanted to manage their resources by planning.”
During the first heady days of my moving to London, I texted this American guy I didn’t know very well and excitedly told him about how my rent was going to be reduced by £50 a month because I had chosen the smallest room, and he said, “You’re way too excited about that. Let me buy you dinner.” I knew he was one of the good ones.
It is Relationships Month here at The Billfold, and—with just one week left—I decided I would share a bit about the costs of my own relationships.
This summer I’m moving from Alabama to Texas with no job or savings, in part because of the way my family handles money.
It seems obviously inappropriate to gang up on a coworker and stage a finance intervention about personal purchases, but what if the person were a close friend or family member? Have you ever told someone close to you that they were making bad financial decisions? Would you ever?
A few nights ago, Ben arrived home from work carrying several bags, none of them the one containing his newly bought shirt from J. Crew ($66, on sale).
Taking short meaningless walks between the kitchen and the bedroom became his favorite hobby.