Of all the topics engaged couples discuss, I suspect the least amount of time—if any—is spent on how to handle money. I'm not talking about those budgeting exercises they give you during pre-marriage counseling or knowing how you'll make your rent or what it will take to pay off your student loans. I mean the real, gut-wrenching "how do you view finances" conversation.
No, that one usually happens after the wedding. Depending on your situation, it might be weeks or even months before it hits. But when it does, it lands with a giant thud in the center of your newlywed bliss.
Take Rich and me, for example. We were a little older—35 and 40—than "traditional" marrying age, so any observer might have thought we'd be financially set with an understanding of basic money management. The problem was, our "understanding" was not the same; we were set all right—set in our ways. And neither of us was willing to budge.
I can trace our distinct views to the models set by our parents. When Rich was growing up, his mom and dad kept separate bank accounts. They had a system for who paid what bills, but discretionary leftovers were theirs individually. Since his mom was an ardent saver, his dad was more likely to pay for the extras, such as eating out or vacations. But it worked for them, and so of course that is the financial separation Rich expected in our marriage.
My parents handled money quite differently. They had one joint checking account with one checkbook. Purchases were mutual decisions, and my dad wrote all the bills once a month on payday. Although they were not much for saving, my parents did find a way to afford a few trips to the beach and designer jeans for me (remember the '80s?).
Before Rich and I married, he rarely allowed me to pay for anything on our dates—chivalry is not dead, I suppose! He enjoyed treating me so I didn't question it. Since we had separate households, I figured whatever extra money he had after taking care of his responsibilities was his business, and if he wanted to spend it on me, well, who was I to stand in his way? Similarly, he never asked how I parceled out my paycheck.
Cut to the first month of marriage. Rent came due, as did other bills. Before the wedding we'd talked about what our debts would be and how our combined incomes would cover them. But we'd never planned how that would actually happen. My assumption was that we'd open a joint checking account, where our pay would be deposited. When I suggested to Rich that we stop by the bank to apply, he looked as if I'd just asked if he wanted to go for a manicure.
"Why would we do that?" he responded with honest disbelief.
I explained what I thought our bill-paying procedure would be (my parents' example), only to have him lay out the strategy he thought we'd use (his parents' method). The more we each lobbied for our vision, the more heated the exchange became. We finally had to go to separate rooms for a while to cool off.
Maybe this scenario sounds familiar.
Working It Out
I'd love to say we worked it all out and lived happily ever after, but that's not the case. In fact, money is probably the number one sticking point in our marriage—as it is in so many. Thankfully, however, we've come to terms with each other's "money language," and we try to respect it.
We did open a joint account, but Rich kept a separate account where a small portion of his income is deposited for his own use. Because I'm better with budgeting, I write the bills from our joint account. We discuss our savings, and he contributes to it from his personal account when necessary (the first time he's ever had a savings, by the way). Typically we discuss large purchases, but we respect each other's privacy when it comes to our "walkin' around money," as Rich calls our spare cash.
I try not to nag him about his spending, and he tries to understand my need to have multiple back-up plans for savings and paying off debt. Over time, we've realized our mutual flexibility has softened both our stances. He's become a bit less of a spendthrift, while I've learned it's okay to let go and not fear "the worst" so much.
The important thing is we haven't allowed the almighty dollar to take over our marriage. As Rich has reminded me when I've been overly anxious about financial obligations, "It's only money."
So talk about money. Solve any fiscal disagreements immediately. And don't let the green stuff (or lack of it) get in the way of your most important investment: your marriage.
Christy Scannell, freelance editor and writer, is co-author of Desperate Pastors' Wives and Katt's in the Cradle (Howard Books/Simon & Schuster). She and her husband, Rich, live in Southern California. www.ChristyScannell.com
Copyright © 2010 by the author or Christianity Today/Kyria.com.
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