When I was working as an English professor, my fiancée ran a medium-sized company and made 15 times as much money per year as I did—before her bonus. Like many men, I’m proud and competitive. I had already accepted that I wasn’t going to earn more in my lifetime than my father. Now I blanched when I wanted to take my darling to dinner: would we go to the kind of place she’s used to, which I couldn’t come close to affording, or would she be willing to slum it with me again?Ultimately, she and I came to a very amicable agreement on spending: we’d alternate who paid for what and, yes, she’d take me to fancy places and I’d take her for pizza. To her credit, she never complained about picking up bills or paying part of my way if we went on a nice vacation. We were only together for two years, though, and I wonder if—over time—the differences in our lifestyles would have gotten to her … or to me. I like to think they wouldn’t have, even though the chivalrous part of me would always wince when she took out her wallet. Read more …
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