On a Monday or Wednesday in mid-March, 2008, Dr Marry and I were walking our pup Lilly. He had recently found out he had been hired for a tenure-track position at MSUM, so we had a measure of stability that we'd never had before, since his positions had all been temporary, first as a post Doc and then as a fixed-term professor. I know exactly where we were on the walk when a feeling of absolute certainty spread over me, and I said, "You know, if you asked me to marry you again, I would have a different answer." (The first proposal is a story for a different day.)
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Disrupting the money conversation
Pre-2017, we didn't have money conversations. We had money arguments. From his side, I was nagging, questioning, accusing; from mine, he was obfuscating, lying, paying no attention. We never, and I do mean never, had a "good" conversation around money.
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Committed to it all
So today I sit in my sunroom, overlooking the yard where we happily celebrated making this commitment to each other 12 years ago, and think, as I often have done in these past three years, what if I hadn't held on?
