For the Love of Money
I read an article on Psychology Today‘s website that said women are more likely to buy lipstick in times of economic recession because they want to “attract mates ‘with resources.’” This annoyed me, but not because the results of the study implied that a woman’s thoughts are as simple as, “I need pretty lips in order to snag a man!” Women are obviously more complex than that; even with scientific research and results, we all know there are many other motivators at work in a person’s search for love. No, the bigger thing that bothered me is that although I’d like to meet a nice guy, I don’t want to bother with lipstick. Makeup is already difficult enough as it is.
Admittedly, I’m a bit jealous that dudes haven’t had to figure out the makeup game. Their low-maintenance look can be as quick as shaving their face and swiping on Chapstick (and clearly I’m referring to normal, everyday guys, as male celebrities are an entirely different story). A lady’s low-maintenance, no-makeup look usually involves at least four products. I think I’m actually aiming low with that four products guess, but again, I’ve never been great at the art of makeup.
Long-distance relationships can certainly take a toll on your emotions, but they can almost do more damage to your finances if you’re not careful. But it doesn’t have to be that way. This article at The Jane Dough offers practical advice on maintaining a long-distance relationship without blowing up your budget. Because even though you’d walk 500 miles (or maybe even 1,000) to see your love, it would be nice to save some money along the way, right?
When you’re dating someone new, it can be tempting to lavish them with expensive gifts, dinners at the finest restaurants and trips to trendy vacation spots. And sometimes it’s okay to spend a little more on someone you really like — provided that you’re spending within your means.
But sometimes the need to impress the new person in your life can derail even the most carefully laid financial plans. Worse: it can trap you in a lifestyle that is tricky to escape. This article from The Atlantic discusses the idea of overspending as a form of “mating deception,” a habit that might initially seem harmless but could lead to serious debt if not kept in check.
As we’re all too aware by now, it’s been a raw decade for young Americans. The job market still has a giant, recession-shaped crater in it. A college degree is more expensive yet more essential than ever. Wages are stagnant.
All of this adds up to a single sad possibility, according to the New York Times’ Annie Lowrey: Today’s twenty- and thirty-somethings may never end up as rich and financially secure as their parents…
A frightening/ fascinating piece in The Atlantic.
When I first met my husband, he had just gotten a job that paid him more than double what he’d ever earned before (and almost quadruple what I made at the time). Since he rightfully felt no need to move out of the cheap little apartment he shared with an awesome roommate, he suddenly had a lot of capital to spare. He started doing things like taking three friends to a big-venue concert, or buying himself some spiffy designer duds, or giving twenty bucks to a homeless guy who’s cardboard sign he liked.
When we started dating, the same applied to me. Early on, he invited me on a snowboarding trip and, finding out I had no outdoor winter gear, bought me a whole Roxy outfit in one spree: baggy-cute pants, a jacket with all kinds of pockets, long underwear, mittens, socks. He also paid for the trip.
Perhaps all of us, freed from the constraints of a budget, would lavish gifts and experiences on our loved ones. But as the receiver, I felt weird.
I thought it was weird that I felt weird. I had been pretty spoiled growing up, and I’d never really gotten over wanting to be a princess. Even four years at a progressive liberal arts college hadn’t broken me of a serious penchant for rom-coms and secret-but-persistent dreams of living a life of luxury. It seemed at first, with this relationship, that I’d stumbled into both. Suddenly I got to go to nice bars and drink nice drinks and order three courses at fancy restaurants — all with a wonderful guy. Suddenly I had Tiffany jewelry and a dress from Anthropologie. I wasn’t very good at snowboarding (I was TERRIBLE at snowboarding), but I was good at drinking wine in a cozy lodge or lounging in the hot tub.
I am afraid of debt and bad with money.
You do the math.
When I was a child, my limited understanding of marriage included knowing I would have to eventually share all my stuff. As I got older, I realized I would have to split my money as well. But it wasn’t until very recently that I learned my debt would also be a shared asset. Aside from the scary business of marriage, what with the merging of emotional assets and vowing to love one another, it’s the union of two banks accounts. The Spice Girls were singing about when two credit scores become one, right?
I don’t suppose I had really given the idea of asset integration much thought until one of my best friends got engaged a couple years ago. After dating for seven years it was time for both their last names checking accounts to merge. My friend put her foot down and insisted that her soon to be husband pay down his entire credit card bill before the wedding; starting their new life together with a clean slate. Good for her; well both of them really. Once you sign a marriage license and file for joint taxes, finances become muddled. Sadly, we live in a world where all too often divorce rules and romance drools. Even more confusing, in the case of divorce all the assets and debt brought into the marriage, as well as those accrued during the union, would be up for grabs. Despite my cynicism, I still believe in the sanctity of marriage, and my friends’ marital financial situation made me pause and think about assuming my future life mate’s debt.
dahGRAMS
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