Monday, July 28, 2003
Money is the root of all arguments
My wife and I have been together, married and otherwise, for almost 20 years, and not once in that time have we ever been able to discuss our joint finances in any detail without having an ugly, bitter fight.
This is not news; money and sex are the two biggest reasons why marriages end. Our sex is great both in terms of quality and quantity (or was until the kids starting showing up), and neither of us is That Guy -- you know, the one who cheats on his/her spouse. But money -- well, it taps into some powerful issues with her that she has never fully acknowledged or confronted.
I know we had fights about money before then, but the earliest fight I remember distinctly was the one we had before we got married about whether or not to have separate checking accounts. I was in favor; she was opposed. I can't even remember now what arguments we each mustered. All I can remember is that we fought so long and so viciously that I ultimately caved.
When we got married, we did what a lot of couples do and spent more than we could really afford on our honeymoon. Because we'd paid for most of the wedding expenses ourselves, that left us several thousand dollars in hock to our credit cards -- not huge money, but significant relative to our salaries. My position was that we ought to scrimp and save 'til we'd paid that debt off, then live within our means thereafter. Her position was that, no, we were in the "getting and acquiring" stage of our marriage.
"You just don't seem to understand the difference between 'want' and 'need' and between 'need' and 'need right now,'" I remember saying. And from an objective standpoint, I was perfectly right, but that one comment damn near killed our fledgling marriage.
I'll share just one other of the greatest hits: the night, soon after our first child was born, when we began discussing saving for the kids' college. Long story short, the discussion ended with her saying, "If you don't like the way I handle money, then you can just call a lawyer."
The perceptive among you might ask: So, Al, why didn't you stand up to her?
And the answer is this: She cares more than I do about the subject, and when she cares about a subject, no tactic of argumentation is too extreme. On the other hand, I'm unwilling to attack her personally to score a point of fact or logic. That doesn't make me better than she is; it just makes me different and kind of defines the dynamic of our relationship where money is concerned.
So, I had to decide: Was I going to call a lawyer?
And I decided I would not. I figured the kids were better off with us together than with us apart. Besides, arguments over money aside, we really do love each other. I figure it's somewhere between a strong possibility and a likelihood that we will end up in bankruptcy court someday; we're never more than a couple of paychecks from disaster if you ignore our (now substantially reduced) 401Ks. And when the bankruptcy judge lectures us on our profligacy, I will stand there silently and nod and act for all the world as if it really was my fault.
This is not news; money and sex are the two biggest reasons why marriages end. Our sex is great both in terms of quality and quantity (or was until the kids starting showing up), and neither of us is That Guy -- you know, the one who cheats on his/her spouse. But money -- well, it taps into some powerful issues with her that she has never fully acknowledged or confronted.
I know we had fights about money before then, but the earliest fight I remember distinctly was the one we had before we got married about whether or not to have separate checking accounts. I was in favor; she was opposed. I can't even remember now what arguments we each mustered. All I can remember is that we fought so long and so viciously that I ultimately caved.
When we got married, we did what a lot of couples do and spent more than we could really afford on our honeymoon. Because we'd paid for most of the wedding expenses ourselves, that left us several thousand dollars in hock to our credit cards -- not huge money, but significant relative to our salaries. My position was that we ought to scrimp and save 'til we'd paid that debt off, then live within our means thereafter. Her position was that, no, we were in the "getting and acquiring" stage of our marriage.
"You just don't seem to understand the difference between 'want' and 'need' and between 'need' and 'need right now,'" I remember saying. And from an objective standpoint, I was perfectly right, but that one comment damn near killed our fledgling marriage.
I'll share just one other of the greatest hits: the night, soon after our first child was born, when we began discussing saving for the kids' college. Long story short, the discussion ended with her saying, "If you don't like the way I handle money, then you can just call a lawyer."
The perceptive among you might ask: So, Al, why didn't you stand up to her?
And the answer is this: She cares more than I do about the subject, and when she cares about a subject, no tactic of argumentation is too extreme. On the other hand, I'm unwilling to attack her personally to score a point of fact or logic. That doesn't make me better than she is; it just makes me different and kind of defines the dynamic of our relationship where money is concerned.
So, I had to decide: Was I going to call a lawyer?
And I decided I would not. I figured the kids were better off with us together than with us apart. Besides, arguments over money aside, we really do love each other. I figure it's somewhere between a strong possibility and a likelihood that we will end up in bankruptcy court someday; we're never more than a couple of paychecks from disaster if you ignore our (now substantially reduced) 401Ks. And when the bankruptcy judge lectures us on our profligacy, I will stand there silently and nod and act for all the world as if it really was my fault.
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