Now that we’ve finally got around to doing “it” (and by it, I mean surrendering ourselves completely to one another), we’re proud parents of a joint checking account. I mean, it’s wholly overdue, being that we’ve practically lived together since Date One (that fatefully-drunk St. Patrick’s Day) — now at our second cohabited place of residence. And have now moved somewhere where I no longer have in-person branch or ATM access (RIP, Chase Bank, but Pittsburgh doesn’t love you).
The responsibility that a joint account brings is something very scary to me. I’ve rightly fucked up my own money and financial situation just the way I like it (and gloriously revel in paying down balances to an “almost paid off” status). But now, everything from skating gear to make-up to the need for another pair of boots is scrutinized by more than just MY bank balance. HE has a say (and being the bread winner in said situation, I suppose at a 90% relevance to total household income).
But on that long-term relationship note, I had another conversation about “why I don’t want to get married” with one of my open skate partners-in-crime. I found it hilarious because every excuse I could give for being wed (having kids, combined tax benefits, commitment to “God”), her response was “that’s not a reason to get married… and THAT’S not a reason to get married.”
See? I have no reason. And merely being in love just doesn’t cut it because you need not be husband-and-wife to prove that to yourselves or anyone else, for that matter. Yet, people exchange vows every day and the wedding industry is making a ka-BILLION dollars in profits.
So, question: why did YOU get married (or why do you)?I mean, it’s only fair since everyone always asks me the opposite. And it’s OK, if it was for free shit, you can vent that openly here. At least that’s a more tangible excuse.
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