So, my fiance and I are doing great. We got her stuff moved into our new home, and we got everything cleaned. We even combined closets to make things more "us" as opposed to her and I. Things were going so smoothly. We were even rocking on the wedding planning. She found a dress, and while I haven't seen it, I can only imagine it's Heaven in a dry-cleaning bag. So, the next fun thing we get to do is work on our money. Yep, it's the old case of man vs. Benjamin. I wasn't looking forward to the issue, but I figured "how bad could it be?"Let me start off by saying my fiance is nothing but brilliant, and she isn't one of those women you have to hide money around. She's smart about her dinero. I'm no slouch, either, but it's mainly because after I pay my bills, I have just enough for a pack of skittles. But that's my money. I've never been responsible for someone else's money. What if I screw up? What if I think we need something, and she doesn't agree? Oh God, what is she sees the 57 McDonalds charges from last month? It can be a stressful time. (Yeah, I'm worried about McDonalds charges, not porn, or strip clubs, but Big Mac bills. Whatever. Shut up!)
So, I wanted to combine checking accounts. It just seemed easier for paying bills and such. My fiance was nervous about doing it, because it requires more trust and communication, and it's nerve-wracking dealing with someone else's money, but I told her it's "our money" now, anyway. Besides, I promised her there weren't too many DVD's I had to buy coming out this year so far, so we are good. She said she would cut back on the shoe shopping, and life would be merry.
My attempts at checking unification weren't helped by the fact many people had told us to keep things separate, that having our own money, never meeting is safer, and less drama. While I agree with that, I refuse to even think about the idea that she could be broke, while I could have plenty of money, or, more than likely, the other way around. Besides, it doesn't feel right. We both had said, she's not a roommate, or just a friend. She's my future wife. Our lives are shared, our money should be too.
The day came. We met up at the bank, both nervous, wondering if we were sealing our financial doom. She would see my McDonalds spending spree, and the time I spent $60 at Movie Stop, and she would see that I am a ridiculously poor man. All my secrets would be laid on the table. As we walked into the bank, my palms started sweating, my stomach started to tie itself up, and some customer service lady offered to help. It was all like a John Woo movie.
We had set things into motion. Our money, or lack thereof, was now in each others hands. It doesn't matter how much was there. It's the fact that it was one less thing that was mine or hers, and it joined the lengthening list of things that are ours. She had already become a part of me, and I felt like we were already inseparable, this just made it financially official.
The down side is that we both realized how poor we both are. Sure we get by, and sure the bills will get paid, but nothing says "rough times ahead" like a double-digit bank statement, and it showed that the journey we were on wouldn't be completely smooth, but we both agreed being together is way more important than being rich, so we were OK. We had each other, that's all that mattered. I still wouldn't mind if she won the lottery, though. I'm just saying.
It may seem like a trivial thing, but not to me. The ring, and the house were all huge things, and this is just a matter of paperwork, but it's still putting my money in our hands, along with her money. It's a scary thing because there is just so much more to mess up now. But, as we await our debit cards, we discuss dinner plans, and what to buy for grocery shopping, I look at her and know, without a doubt, things will be fine. That being said, we don't seem to pass by as many McDonalds's as we used to. Weird.
Looking for the rest of the fun tales, or as I refer to them "The Chronicles of the Wedding to Remember: The Directors Cut" Well, here you go:
No comments:
Post a Comment