Financial machismo


Image by bfishadow via Flickr

The boy is not making any meaningful strides in the great mortgage application debacle, but he’s retaining his sanity. For the most part. Other than a stated desire to drink like a fish on the weekends.

I call him on my way home, and tell him I’m getting ready for my visit. I’m standing in front of the ATM, with the din of the grocery store all around me, and I ask him idly how much cash I should bring with me.

Not much, he says. A couple hundred, maybe.

You have to understand: I tend to walk around the world cashless. Maybe a 20 stashed somewhere, just in case. There’s plastic (which I pay off monthly, incidentally)… so for me, $40 is a lot of “cash on hand.”  So this concept that a couple hundred is “walking around money” for him… this is an interesting insight into his fiscal psyche.

He’s just finished telling me that I need a few hundred, just to have on hand, and then he asks me what I think I’ll be needing cash for at all. What are you going to pay for? he wants to know. What do you ever pay for when you’re with me? 

It’s not an accusation; I’ve offended his machismo to suggest that I might need to pay for anything in his presence. Good grief, we’re not even dating. But God forbid that I, as a woman, should even offer to pay for something, even just to even things out a little. A very little.

He’s really not a macho nut about anything else. I gotta give him this though… he may be a bit too macho about this one issue, but at least he’s not a mooch.

I song and dance around how of course I know I won’t need much, other than possibly buying myself a little something while I’m there. And then we change the subject and the conversation continues to devolve into both of us saying a lot of What? and I can’t hear what you’re saying! and we click off.

I really am looking forward to seeing him.


About aka gringita
Flotsam generator. Amateur photographer. Avid traveler. Christ follower.

2 Responses to Financial machismo

  1. I never carried cash around – ever – until a couple of years ago, when I discovered garage sales. Most of the world takes plastic, but the old guy down the street with pink flamingos in his yard and a barely-used rice cooker on sale for $5 OBO does not.


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