Hank titled this one, "Money Can Buy Happiness," after I told him how much this ensemble costs. Nothing here is cheap. In fact, the whole thing is probably close to $2000. I just couldn't resist. I love this dress. Could a LBD any sleeker, sexier, understated, comfortable, and versatile? Too bad it's $500. The cuff bracelet is also grand. Imagine the possibilities. It would look as good with jeans, boots, and a rocker tee as it does here. But the thing that makes me gaga about this outfit is the mix of brown and black. It really can be done, though I admit it can be done badly. Black/brown works here, because the purse and shoes still match (an old fashion maxim), making the brown seem purposeful. Also, the brown pieces have shimmer, pushing them toward gold. Since the jewelry is gold, it ties the brown in even more. Since black is the main piece and runs the length of the silhouette, it doesn't look like a color mistake. Plus, let's face it. You can wear any color with a LBD, and it will look right.
"Tell a man, 'I hate you,' and you'll have the best sex of your life. Tell a man, 'I love you,' and you'll probably never see him again." Samantha
Money is tough. Saying "I love you" can be equally as hard. Both are especially difficult when one person has it/says it and the other doesn't. Enter, today's episode.
Steve, a career bartender, and Miranda, an attorney, have a big income difference. It starts to cause problems. When Miranda asks Steve to go to a work function with her, she finds out that he doesn't own an appropriate suit for the occasion. She offers to buy him one. Big no-no. Steve freaks out, buys the suit, returns the suit, and breaks up with her, saying there will always be things that are out of his reach. Samantha dates a man who has a female Thai servant. The woman pretends not to know English in front of her "master," but secretly sabotages every gal he dates. After all, if he gets serious about another woman, she may be out of a job. Charlotte makes out with an egomaniacal movie star but breaks away just short of becoming a groupie. In an extremely awkward moment, Carrie tells Big she loves him for the first time. He doesn't say it back. A week goes by. They go to one of his high-society parties and fight the entire night. Assuming Big doesn't love her nor care about her feelings, Carrie ends up leaving without him and goes home with a guy friend, who she ends up kissing. Big wakes her up the next morning with a phone call in which he says, "I fucking love you, okay. Are we okay?" Carrie feels terrible, but relieved. She doesn't tell him about the kiss, justifying that "Everything before 'I love you' just doesn't count."
This subject of money and coupledom hits home with me right now. Since we're living only on Hank's meager med school loans and a small sum I made working over Christmas, we're money-stressed to the max. We both know it could be worse. Hey, we can still pay our rent and eat. But we're conscious about money every day, especially since I'm jobless. What's more, unemployment breeds a certain amount of money shame that follows me around all day and whispers in my ear, "You don't deserve anything until you start making more money. Right now, by buying this coffee, you're draining your resources and taking Hank down with you." And yet, I still make the odd purchase, which understandably infuriates Hank. I argue that it's money I earned over Christmas. I also figure that since I contribute my half to rent and groceries, who cares if I put $20 here and there on my credit card? He's not paying that back. I am. And I'm so much better than I used to be, yada yada.
But he doesn't see it that way. He doesn't care where the money comes from. It's our money, and I'm spending it on stupid shit like gold heels on sale at Aldo that we (debatably) don't need to survive. Then, he reminds me again that he hasn't bought anything for himself in the past few months. He hasn't skied or gone to a hard rock concert, even though I tell him to go. He says we can't afford it. He's right. I know this. I also know that it would take a near act of God for me not to spend any money during a month--even if all I buy is a damn $6 bracelet at Forever 21, which I did yesterday. I'd almost sacrifice one meal for that. Who knows, I may soon start having to do that.
This all brings up the issue of Whose Money Is It Anyway--especially when you're not married and, like me, have a lot of debt you accrued before you were even together. Every marriage guidance book (when I use to read that crap) says you should share all finances, regardless of who makes more. Merge your accounts. Merge your debts. It's the only way to be a truly united force. I tend to agree with this. But I'm not used to it. I'm used to making financial decisions on my own, even if those decisions are bad ones.
What's more, I come from a family where both partners make enough to justify personal expenditures, but they rarely ever agree on what to buy. To avoid confrontation, they just buy things without telling the other, causing a truckload of resentment. Dad gives a thousand dollars to the Republican Party. Mom buys her tenth garage-sale piece of furniture this year. They both secretly fume. So financial independence within a couple isn't necessarily healthier. In the end, your financial behavior can't help but affect your partner, and visa versa. You have to work together--for your sanity and your partner's.
So, realizing this, I made Hank a deal. Until I have a job and we then make a budget, I will not go to the mall. At all. Since the poor man naively didn't state anything about online shopping, I am taking the initiative to include it (a painful decision). It will be hard, but in the end, no matter how cute those shoes or how much I like a dress I saw in Glamour, I like Hank more.
As far as "I love you" goes, here's our story. When I first said it to Hank (and I did say it first), I was afraid for a second that he wouldn't say it back. I had wanted to wait until he said it first. I was trying to be cautious for once. But after a few weeks of dating, he wasn't saying it, and I couldn't wait to tell him. I knew it was early, but I couldn't help myself. I blurted it out. To my own relief, he said it back right away. He mentioned that he had only told one other girlfriend that in his entire life, and even then only under duress. He had always refrained from saying it, because he wanted it to be really special when he did. He always let the girl know his stance at the beginning of the relationship. I was shocked at this--I had said "I love you" to all of my boyfriends, mostly because I thought that's what couples did--but I admired him for it.
A few minutes after we said it, I worried I had made a mistake. I thought maybe he had spouted it off just to make me feel good. However, as the days went by, I saw his floodgates burst open. Every time I looked at my phone, there was an "I Love You" text. We never went a conversation without saying it. His friends even teased him for being so in love. I realized I really was getting all his saved-up love.
Nine months later, I still get those texts--nearly every morning. I know I'm a lucky woman. I think if you feel it, you say it. You have to in order to be true to yourself and life. Besides, who cares who says it first or more often? Even if no one ever said it, you would feel if it's there or if it isn't. The biggest part of love is active, not just a few words. But when the actions, the words, and the feelings are all there, man, that's hard to beat.
I hope you'll be back. I will.
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