‘œI chose my wife, as she did her wedding gown, for qualities that would wear well.’ ‘“ Oliver Goldsmith

Hindsight is always 20/20, and as I think back over my decade-old financial implosion, I’ve realized that one of the most important life decisions one makes is the selection of a mate. I was raised in a conservative family, and we didn’t talk much about money, sex or relationships. Had I had the benefit of that knowledge, I might have made better decisions.

I was an odd kid, and I didn’t date much during high school. I was interested in boys because it was expected, but I think my attempts to be feminine and attractive resulted in me looking much like a Mack truck decorated with ribbons and bows. I didn’t get dates because people could see in me what I could not.

Shortly after I went away to college, I learned there was a GLBT Student Union on campus. I thought about going over to talk, but was afraid of what it would mean. I knew my parents would strongly disapprove, and couldn’t admit to myself that I might be queer. I gave up the idea and didn’t date until a former landlord tried to play matchmaker.

My first long-term relationship was with a writer. I was 19 years old, very naive, and in awe of his creativity, brilliance and sarcastic wit. Since I’d been soundly rejected by pretty much every attractive guy I’d ever approached, his interest was pretty heady stuff. I was suddenly in love, and we moved in together very quickly. My parents objected to the relationship, but I was stupid and didn’t listen.

Shortly after we moved in together, we went on an extended cross country trip, funded entirely by a small trust fund that had been set up for me by my maternal grandfather. When we completed the trip, we returned to college, where I learned my man was loathe to do any sort of work except for his writing. He didn’t get a paying job, and he didn’t help out around the house. While he lived off his financial aid and his father’s monthly support checks, I worked two and sometimes three part-time jobs. While he spent his free time writing, I spent my time cooking, cleaning and doing laundry. Whenever we came up short at the end of the month, it always fell to me to make up the difference. By the time we graduated from college, my trust fund was nearly gone, having been spent on travel, living expenses, school, and supporting my boyfriend. Even though I was incredibly unhappy, I didn’t have the sense to dump my deadbeat boyfriend. I figured if I did, I’d never find anyone else. We stayed together for almost four years, until he graduated. After graduation, he moved overseas to teach English, and took a lot of my stuff with him.

Lessons learned: Don’t fool yourself into thinking that a bad relationship is better than no relationship, and don’t agree to financially support your partner, if they are unwilling to bring anything to the table. It’s fine to have a non-working spouse; it’s not okay to have a non-working spouse who contributes nothing.

My next relationship lasted about three years. He was almost 20 years my senior, and was a responsible man with a good job. We moved in together as soon as I graduated from college, and we quickly bought a mobile home together using the last of my trust fund money as a down payment. I started my first post-college job, and was married a few months later, because I thought that marriage would protect me from losing my possessions in the event of a break-up.

We weren’t compatible on many levels, and he felt put upon because my post-college employment situation hadn’t worked out as well as we’d both hoped. I worked at several jobs that made me miserable, and ultimately quit to start my own business. We divorced after I learned that he was having an affair. I kept the mobile home because real estate prices had dropped dramatically and we couldn’t sell. Since I’d made the down payment and my husband couldn’t afford to buy me out, it seemed like the most equitable solution.

Lessons learned: Do not rush to accept big responsibilities right after college. Although jumping into a relationship, buying a car or a house might seem tempting, you may find out that your post-college job isn’t as satisfying as you hoped. Had I taken the time to stabilize my life and career before leaping into huge emotional and financial responsibilities, I wouldn’t have had such a huge mess to clean up later. Our divorce, though amicable, was complicated and costly. For queer couples, divorce can be even messier because of the vast differences of law between states and the federal government.

My last heterosexual relationship was with someone with whom I’d been friends for a long time. I’d resisted becoming romantic with him because I valued our friendship, and there were significant financial challenges to consider. He was permanently disabled and subsisted on disability payments and federally subsidized housing. I couldn’t move in with him because the mobile home park had a rule against sub-letting. After much agonizing, we decided he would move in with me, which caused him to lose his eligibility for subsidized housing.

Although my friend was a good man, the financial consequences of his disability quickly became difficult. I went into debt to modify the house to be more wheelchair-accessible, and took over the role of his state-paid personal care attendant because we desperately needed the money. I wasn’t earning enough from my business and collection of part-time jobs, so we received most of our groceries from the local food pantry. He went back to school to become a licensed therapist, but was never able to get a job because he couldn’t find an agency willing to sponsor his internship.

In 1996, after nearly four years together, the financial burden of my failing business and my boyfriend’s inability to work sent me looking for a full-time job. I ended our relationship a few months later when the strain became too much. I couldn’t hold down a full-time job that required a one-hour commute each way, run a business, keep the house clean and deal with the stresses of being a caregiver.

Lessons learned: Although it’s certainly very unromantic, it’s important to consider the financial implications of moving in together. Had I considered this relationship in a logical and rational way, I would have realized it was bad for both of us. It was bad for me because I wasn’t in a financial position to support the two of us, and it was bad for him because he lost important government aid.

The common thread with all of these relationships was that I was trying to force myself into a straight relationship because I knew it was what my parents wanted for me. Even though it took a long time for me to realize I was queer, the signs had been there since childhood. As a child, I secretly loved it when people mistook me for a boy. When I was in high school, other kids routinely accused me of being gay. Had I been less worried about parental acceptance, I might have spared myself and the men in my life a lot of heartbreak.

Each breakup left me a little worse off both financially and emotionally. If I had been able to look at my relationships in a logical, practical manner, I might have avoided spending money I shouldn’t have spent, buying property I shouldn’t have bought, and borrowing money I shouldn’t have borrowed.

Next in Series: Bad House

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