Early in our relationship H and I had seriously different incomes. Duh. Having been burned by women “looking for
a sugar daddy love,” H was a bit of a-- oh how shall I put this—complete arse at times, handing me the dinner bill and the like, “in the interest of fairness.” Step in Fancy Therapist who explained to him that making his girlfriend overdraw her checking account in a feeble attempt to “keep up her end” and then watch her spend two weeks walking around town (because she didn’t have enough cash for a taxi or new Metrocard and was too proud to ask) was obnoxious.
After some time, H came to realize that Fancy here is not reckless when it comes to spending. In fact, if anything, he’s often encouraging me to spend money. And we have a strong agreement that any purchase over a set amount (which has obviously increased over time) requires notification of the other party. In other words, while we have our issues, whether Fancy dropped £1500 at Selfridges that week is not a sore point. But occasionally someone gets a bug up his butt. Like this morning.
“Did you check your emails? I emailed you last night!” (Yes, because that is how normal couples communicate. We email each other. ) “I’ve stopped the automatic monthly payment to your one credit card. Did you know there was still that much money going there? You never use that card! It’s your US-based card. I bet it’s got 10’s of thousands in credit on it. Do you know what the balance is? Huh? Huh?”
Let me explain something here. The reason for an automatic payment was because our last argument about this card was regarding late payment fees. And while it is true that I don’t use that card daily, it’s the one we use for all US dollar transactions. It’s in my Amazon card details. And one of us has an office in the States. One of us is there a lot. And it’s not me.
So to quiet him down I stacked the children on the sofa and went on line. And then I handed him the computer. Wordlessly.
“Oh. Those knives I bought when I was in the US last time. Yeah, those were expensive. Uh huh. And the books. Oh, our new Kindle. Ah. And I see you’ve got Fancy Therapist on there too.”
Yes darling. Your Amazon obsession. And my Fancy Therapist. Who has spent a lot of time teaching me how to handle the tantrums of a very large toddler. No words. Patience. Let him wear himself out. Maybe even realize he’s being a bit silly?
Pacified, he trotted off to the office. And we’re keeping the automatic payment.