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Stinginess or madness?

Stinginess or madness? - Brenda Leasure

If I would have married a jew, I would have known why do I have to explain every single little penny I spend. From the groceries, the kids’ clothing, the school supplies, the cleaning products to the make-up or any other personal products I use. Since my husband is not a jew, I can only define him as stingy. No expense makes any sense to him. 

Whenever I get something for the house, we end up having a contradictory conversation or a fight. I am getting annoyed by his behaviour. It’s not about the money, because we can afford to buy the things we want. We saved enough, the mortgage is paid, he continues to work, so I don’t see where the problem is. 

Within the past six years he turned into a different person that I do not know. I understand that he wishes to have a simple life and I like that. What I don’t get is why he gets so stingy when it comes to purchasing anything. Because of him and all of the fights we have been having lately, before I buy anything else I ask myself how much do I really want that item. I ask myself if it is worth having another annoying conversation about it, or ruining my evening because of my hubby’s reaction.

I don’t think our marriage is going on the right direction. I am afraid we are going on different paths. I tried to understand his point of view but it made no sense. Don’t imagine that I am a shopaholic or an impulsive shopper. I never come home with things that I did not intent to buy. I always have lists. To do lists, to buy lists, wish lists... I am the lists person. Speaking of to do list, I forgot I had an appointment for a dental emergencies Boisbriand in a few hours. Even this bill I will have to explain it to my husband. I wish I did not have to do this!

My mom warned me about this moment. All of my life I have heard her saying that a woman should never lose her financial independence and rely solely on her husband’s income. The fact that she lost her husband five years after her marriage forced to be on her own feet no matter what. When my dad passed away, I was about four years old. My mother never remarried. She raised me all by herself and continued to live alone even after I had left to college.


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