My boyfriend and I are fairly typical when it comes to topics we most hate to venture into together. Who is better at scrabble (me), who does the most housework (me), who has the moral high ground (me), who has the nicest feet (me), who snores (him). And so on.
But the topic we hate the most is money. We have a system which is a little bit like the game you play as a child where you close your eyes and spin around really fast, laughing merrily all the way until you fall over in a heap and bang your head on the coffee table.
This month he banged his head on the coffee table last week, following which I gave him a high and mighty lecture about how spinning around so fast, no matter how much fun, was only going to result in a horrible headache and no social life for the next three weeks. He was suitably ashamed.
Until this morning, when I too banged my head. Really hard.
As I wept on his shoulder, complaining that not only had I given myself an almighty headache but I could no longer afford the repayments on the coffee table, he swept the moral high ground from under my feet by saying only “I love you and it will be ok.”
He does it on purpose to make me feel bad. Bastard.
So, what with it being a new year and therefore traditional to promise to be new people despite inevitable failure, we have made a money-plan. We have vowed to make a list of outgoings and incomings and spend only what we agree each month.
Most likely this will add a brand new layer of arguments to have about who has overspent and on what. (Him: taxis when running late to work and fine scotch; me: hair appointments and wine.)
It will also mean forgoing random trips like our recent outing in London which mainly involved drinking our own body weight in Sambuca and Champagne followed by an impromptu stay in a hotel having missed the last train. This hedonism was made worse (the next morning; at the time it was great fun) by the fact that the original plan that night was a cheap drink or two in Weatherspoon’s.
Not that we’ll miss such things having also promised to not to drink or smoke anymore.
Doomed to failure or New Year, new us? Only January will tell.