Salon Money | Separate checkbooks

T A B L E__T A L K
Are big banks inherently evil? Weigh in on the behemoth financial institutions in the Business and Personal Finance area of Table Talk

R E C E N T L Y

How far will Wall Street fall?
By Jonathan Broder
Russia's economic turmoil may spread, says one stock analyst, but the fundamentals of the American economy are still strong
(08/28/98)
Dis Capital
By Heather Chaplin
Capitalism bashing or pedophilia: which is a greater taboo?
(08/28/98)
Bull marketing
By Anita Bartholomew
While Wade Cook rides high on lucrative investment seminars, its customers' portfolios take a tumble
(08/21/98)
Hip! Hip! Hooray! Anyone remember who we're boycotting today?
By Kevin Kelleher
Boycotts are more effective than ever -- but the public's role in them is becoming increasingly irrelevant
(08/07/98)
The economy of fake fat
By Heather Chaplin
Olestra: the oil that leaves you running for the bathroom
(07/31/98)
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Money feature archives

Separate checkbooks
__________ONE COUPLE VIOLATES THE SANCTITY OF
____SHARED INCOME AND LIVES TO TELL THE TALE.
________________BY HANK HYENA AND CAROL LLOYD
___________- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"Hank, can I have some stamps?"
"No, Carol -- but I'll sell you some."
"You owe me for the Thai food I brought home last night."
"What? Those prawns were cold, mangled, half-eaten."
"Seven ninety-five plus $2 tax and tip, babes. That's 31.09 stamps."
"But you use more toilet paper than me!"
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
H A N K : My wife and I don't share money. Why not, you ask? Because I believe in economic autonomy. I want to earn and spend my money exactly the way I want to. That's the way it's always been; that's the way it's going to stay.
C A R O L : I first got a glimpse of the deep-seated pathology underlying Hank's attitude toward money on a quiet night a few weeks into our relationship. We were lying in bed, confessing those little secrets that forge intimacy, when Hank began recounting an incident from his childhood. It seems three "friends" robbed him of his lunch money because they decided he was a "loathsome little rich boy." This left an indelible scar on his psyche. The anguish in his eyes helped me control my laughter as he explained that ever since he has avoided commingling his money. Any occasion when he strayed from that rule, he maintained, he lived to regret. "Julie Weston still owes me a dollar from 1977," he added, as if that explained everything.
H A N K : My wife thinks I'm paranoid and maybe she's right. So what? I'm from a thrifty Scottish clan; all of us can "pinch a penny until it screams." My millionaire parents still buy pig trotters and oxtails for 29 cents a pound. It's a hereditary Calvinist disease. Every night, I jot down every nickel I earned and spent that day. I've accepted my upbringing, I enjoy being tight. And I'm never going to "pool" my money.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk," many couples cluck disapprovingly when they hear about our economic autonomy. "We share everything." Well, goody-goody for you, you domestic clones. Go ahead: Share and agree, fuse with your spouse, because golly, that's what love and trust is, right? One brain is better than two? Sharing money is an abdication of independence, and marriage does enough of that already. Carol and I already share a bed, a cat, a car, a house and a few friends that we both coincidentally like. But a joint checking account? Ridiculous. I'm supposed to ask my wife for permission before I buy something? No way. Never.
Don't get me wrong, I'm "committed" to Carol. We've been together for 3,843 days, but I battle to retain as much independence as possible. As one cynical friend said: "Women feel whole in a relationship, but men often feel threatened -- only half themselves." I concede I'm probably one of those guys; and separate accounts remains crucial to my sense of self. Besides, Carol and I are polar opposites when it comes to spending and investing -- we'd never agree on anything.
C A R O L : Early on I didn't really consider how his determination to keep his money separate and untainted -- like Howard Hughes and his germs -- would affect our relationship. But once we embarked on something approximating marriage, a gloomy realization sunk in. For the rest of my life I would be divvying up restaurant tabs, counting stamps and keeping track of grocery bills. I believed that sharing money was not simply an expression of trust, it also meant a life unfettered by annoying, small-minded conversations. But instead of Prince Charming sharing his kingdom with me, I was shackled to Ebenezer Scrooge. I recommended therapy, hypnosis and numerous self-help books. Nothing worked -- Hank refused to change. I was going to have to learn to live with his neurosis, or live without him.
Money means very different things to different people. It's the fuel of our society, the bane and bread of our existence. But among couples it's supposed to be an invisible issue: In love's test tube we expect money's reactive chemicals to neutralize. Yet according to the PBS documentary "Affluenza," in 90 percent of divorce cases, arguments about money play a prominent role in the breakup of the relationship.
Our own situation exploded five years ago when I was working two jobs while Hank was squandering some inherited money, pursuing his art. Begrudgingly, Hank relented. Using arcane computations, he started giving me 42 percent of his family dividends, distributed twice yearly. He didn't give me 50 percent, he explained, because, "I have to pay taxes." It was kooky, but in many ways it was more of a gift than simply opening his accounts. I was free to do whatever I wanted with the money. A few years later, we were married in California, so legally, this means we share all our assets 50-50, but we continue to maintain this odd mixture of autonomy and interdependence -- sometimes giving each other money, but never, ever sharing it.
H A N K : The couples I know who "pool" money invariably suffer for it financially. Usually, they're deeply in debt, spending according to the principle of "What's mine's mine and what's yours is mine so let's go shopping." Sometimes the one with the smaller salary -- usually the woman, but not always -- simply gives up and decides to be a "homemaker." But two women I deeply admire, Anke from Germany and Christina from the Philippines, are adamantly opposed to sharing money with their spouses. Anke says, "As a feminist, it's important to me to control my own finances. Women have been exploited for millennia, because they were denied access to money ... That's never going to happen to me." Christina is even more emphatic: "I have plans for my money -- early retirement -- and nobody is going to interfere with that. Would I let someone tell me how to spend or invest? Impossible."
N E X T+P A G E | Let's go to the experts!




T A B L E__T A L K Are big banks inherently evil? Weigh in on the behemoth financial institutions in the Business and Personal Finance area of Table Talk R E C E N T L Y How far will Wall Street fall? By Jonathan Broder Russia's economic turmoil may spread, says one stock analyst, but the fundamentals of the American economy are still strong (08/28/98) Dis Capital By Heather Chaplin Capitalism bashing or pedophilia: which is a greater taboo? (08/28/98) Bull marketing By Anita Bartholomew While Wade Cook rides high on lucrative investment seminars, its customers' portfolios take a tumble (08/21/98) Hip! Hip! Hooray! Anyone remember who we're boycotting today? By Kevin Kelleher Boycotts are more effective than ever -- but the public's role in them is becoming increasingly irrelevant (08/07/98) The economy of fake fat By Heather Chaplin Olestra: the oil that leaves you running for the bathroom (07/31/98) - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Browse the Money feature archives		__________ONE COUPLE VIOLATES THE SANCTITY OF ____SHARED INCOME AND LIVES TO TELL THE TALE. ________________BY HANK HYENA AND CAROL LLOYD ___________- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - "Hank, can I have some stamps?" "No, Carol -- but I'll sell you some." "You owe me for the Thai food I brought home last night." "What? Those prawns were cold, mangled, half-eaten." "Seven ninety-five plus $2 tax and tip, babes. That's 31.09 stamps." "But you use more toilet paper than me!" - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - H A N K : My wife and I don't share money. Why not, you ask? Because I believe in economic autonomy. I want to earn and spend my money exactly the way I want to. That's the way it's always been; that's the way it's going to stay. C A R O L : I first got a glimpse of the deep-seated pathology underlying Hank's attitude toward money on a quiet night a few weeks into our relationship. We were lying in bed, confessing those little secrets that forge intimacy, when Hank began recounting an incident from his childhood. It seems three "friends" robbed him of his lunch money because they decided he was a "loathsome little rich boy." This left an indelible scar on his psyche. The anguish in his eyes helped me control my laughter as he explained that ever since he has avoided commingling his money. Any occasion when he strayed from that rule, he maintained, he lived to regret. "Julie Weston still owes me a dollar from 1977," he added, as if that explained everything. H A N K : My wife thinks I'm paranoid and maybe she's right. So what? I'm from a thrifty Scottish clan; all of us can "pinch a penny until it screams." My millionaire parents still buy pig trotters and oxtails for 29 cents a pound. It's a hereditary Calvinist disease. Every night, I jot down every nickel I earned and spent that day. I've accepted my upbringing, I enjoy being tight. And I'm never going to "pool" my money. "Tsk, tsk, tsk," many couples cluck disapprovingly when they hear about our economic autonomy. "We share everything." Well, goody-goody for you, you domestic clones. Go ahead: Share and agree, fuse with your spouse, because golly, that's what love and trust is, right? One brain is better than two? Sharing money is an abdication of independence, and marriage does enough of that already. Carol and I already share a bed, a cat, a car, a house and a few friends that we both coincidentally like. But a joint checking account? Ridiculous. I'm supposed to ask my wife for permission before I buy something? No way. Never. Don't get me wrong, I'm "committed" to Carol. We've been together for 3,843 days, but I battle to retain as much independence as possible. As one cynical friend said: "Women feel whole in a relationship, but men often feel threatened -- only half themselves." I concede I'm probably one of those guys; and separate accounts remains crucial to my sense of self. Besides, Carol and I are polar opposites when it comes to spending and investing -- we'd never agree on anything. C A R O L : Early on I didn't really consider how his determination to keep his money separate and untainted -- like Howard Hughes and his germs -- would affect our relationship. But once we embarked on something approximating marriage, a gloomy realization sunk in. For the rest of my life I would be divvying up restaurant tabs, counting stamps and keeping track of grocery bills. I believed that sharing money was not simply an expression of trust, it also meant a life unfettered by annoying, small-minded conversations. But instead of Prince Charming sharing his kingdom with me, I was shackled to Ebenezer Scrooge. I recommended therapy, hypnosis and numerous self-help books. Nothing worked -- Hank refused to change. I was going to have to learn to live with his neurosis, or live without him. Money means very different things to different people. It's the fuel of our society, the bane and bread of our existence. But among couples it's supposed to be an invisible issue: In love's test tube we expect money's reactive chemicals to neutralize. Yet according to the PBS documentary "Affluenza," in 90 percent of divorce cases, arguments about money play a prominent role in the breakup of the relationship. Our own situation exploded five years ago when I was working two jobs while Hank was squandering some inherited money, pursuing his art. Begrudgingly, Hank relented. Using arcane computations, he started giving me 42 percent of his family dividends, distributed twice yearly. He didn't give me 50 percent, he explained, because, "I have to pay taxes." It was kooky, but in many ways it was more of a gift than simply opening his accounts. I was free to do whatever I wanted with the money. A few years later, we were married in California, so legally, this means we share all our assets 50-50, but we continue to maintain this odd mixture of autonomy and interdependence -- sometimes giving each other money, but never, ever sharing it. H A N K : The couples I know who "pool" money invariably suffer for it financially. Usually, they're deeply in debt, spending according to the principle of "What's mine's mine and what's yours is mine so let's go shopping." Sometimes the one with the smaller salary -- usually the woman, but not always -- simply gives up and decides to be a "homemaker." But two women I deeply admire, Anke from Germany and Christina from the Philippines, are adamantly opposed to sharing money with their spouses. Anke says, "As a feminist, it's important to me to control my own finances. Women have been exploited for millennia, because they were denied access to money ... That's never going to happen to me." Christina is even more emphatic: "I have plans for my money -- early retirement -- and nobody is going to interfere with that. Would I let someone tell me how to spend or invest? Impossible." N E X T+P A G E \| Let's go to the experts!