The Third Pillar of My Life

I've heard of immediate gratification before. I've heard colleagues, friends and family talk about how it's freeing-- the way your entire body collapses and releases endorphins— all the tension releasing from your shoulders and chest. I didn't know this life-- this feeling. As with all things, I was always cautious and waited and overanalyzed every purchase in life. But finally, in that moment, I knew the way that the rest of the world felt. With a ring from my phone, confirming my flight and hotel accommodations, my all inclusive vacation to Hawaii was finalized. 

I felt impulsive, not thoughtful and definitely not responsible. I felt free. It had been a long time since I'd done something so selfish. Something purely for myself. The last time I had done something categorically 'selfish' was well before I was married, definitely before I divorced-- before I became this version of myself. 

Ever since I was young, I saved every dollar-- every single penny I ever received. My mother taught me how important it was to be stable in myself and to never lean on loans or other people to provide for me. I budgeted since I was seven and started saving for my future home. Every Christmas and birthday I would ask for things that were out of my budget, things that I knew I would never buy for myself but felt I needed in my life. These were the dolls and toys of my youth, the lavish costume jewelry of my teens and the elaborate electronics of my twenties. I was strategic in every way possible and even found ways to save money while sleeping. (I joined a case study on sleep apnea when I was in college that added to the biweekly checks I received from my full-time job.) 

My intentions were obvious and clear to everyone around me, make my money efficiently and as quickly as possible and reap all the rewards of being a responsible adult as early as possible. More than anything else, I just never wanted to be my parents. I never wanted to struggle to own a home later in my life, unsure of when or if I will ever be financially secure enough to retire.

I successfully bought my home at the age of 24 and it proved to be the most stressful and securing feeling I've ever encountered. Finally I had worked hard enough to own something that I could always have-- a place that would always be my own. No one would be able to take this away from me. 

When I think back to how young and foolish I was in my twenties, I don’t remember blackout nights or waking up next to a perfect stranger. I think of everything that happened after I closed on my home. 

I was the envy of my friends and colleagues, and if I told you that I didn't find satisfaction in this I would be lying. I had sacrificed so much of my youth to achieve this milestone, and I wanted everyone to know and want for what I had-- financial independence. 

It's easy to do--- if you just remain disciplined around your budget.

I just don't think I could give up the things that you have.

Karen lived for the moment, and never thought twice about any purchase no matter how large. She's the type of girl I was always scared to become, riddled with credit card debt with no end in sight, and she has been my best friend since I had my first piggy bank. 

I haven't given up much. I just do them in a different way than most.

I am in literal awe of you right now. Twenty-four and already owning your home-- without the help of your family or a boyfriend/husband. 

And just like that-- my moment of proud happiness was over. 

That was the thing-- I had done it all. Done it all alone. And the truth was, all I really wanted was someone else. I had spent the majority of my years focused and determined on making it to this point and there was no one to share it with. Whether or not I wanted to admit it— I was lonely. I had never really had a boyfriend and I always assumed that when I was old enough and financially stable I would fall in love and eventually marry. But like most things in life, it didn’t work out that way. 

While everyone was enjoying happy hours after work and crowded bars on weekends-- I was at home, by myself, eating a meal that had been carefully planned and budgeted for the month. I never went out. It just didn't work into my budget. I didn't even enjoy drinking. It just didn't work into the lifestyle I had planned (my budget). And with the majority of my friends meeting their one night stands and boyfriends at bars and late night benders, I realized early that I would have to figure out another way for me-- a way that was budget friendly yet still effective. 

You should go on Tinder. It's how I met Tom, Brad and Chris. 

Karen believed in Tinder. She believed in digital dating. She believed life should be measured in swipes and super likes. She believed in immediate gratification. 

Who's Tom?

My date from yesterday! He bought me dinner at that impossible to get into restaurant in the Village. Think about all the free dinners you can get out of this-- it's totally within your budget if you don't have to pay. 

Isn't it presumptuous to think that the guy will pay all the time?

Why wouldn't he? He's the guy. 

Karen believed in women's rights. She believed in equality and choice. But dinners and drinks were always the responsibility of men in her eyes.

Give me your phone— I can make your profile for you. 

Without a second to think, my phone was pulled out of my hands and as quickly as she turned men over, the app was installed in my phone.

What’s your Facebook login?

I don’t remember. Also, why do I need to do this. I don’t want to meet the person I’m going to spend the rest of my life with on an app. 

Karen had decided long ago that I was old school. That I was a naive romantic at heart and that I would never meet anyone the way I was living. 

A part of me believed her. I should have been happy with all of the things in my life that were solid: my finances, my health and my job— but there was another part of my life that needed to be fulfilled to be a success in my book: a family. 

Leave it. I’ll figure it out. 

She handed my phone back to me and pushed her chair back to her cubicle. 

That was the thing about Karen. She never pushed her agenda on me, regardless of how many times I tried pushing mine on her. That’s probably why we worked— how we were able to stay as close as we have through all the years. 

I knew that the right moment would present itself to me. I would meet the man that would change my life and fulfill the circle of my success. I just had to be diligent and exhaust all my resources in a cost-effective way. I didn’t know where to begin, so I let the thought linger further in my mind. 

Time continued and as I slowly decorated and settled into my new home, I began to wonder if I would ever meet anyone organically. People still meet randomly on the street and fall in love right?

I would never learn the answer to that question. I instead ended up at a singles mixer hosted by the parent company of the corporation I worked for. 

The attendance was what you would expect on a Tuesday night— bleak. I stood around in my best black dress that showed off my legs (everyone always said I had nice legs) that Karen bought me for my birthday last year. I held a glass of white wine as an accessory to look friendly and inviting. I hadn’t actually had a sip at all. 

As the desperate women and even more desperate men seemed to pair off, I found myself completely alone. I had spent the entire day worried about what I would say if anyone talked to me, and I realized that it was foolish for me to even be anxious since no one had approached me at all. 

I grabbed my bag and set my glass down when I heard his voice. 

Leaving already?

I turned around anticipating to see an overweight, balding man that would be closer to my dad’s age than mine. How wrong I was. 

He stood in front of me in a tailored expensive looking suit, perfectly polished shoes with a set of gleaming white teeth that brightened his tanned chiseled face. He was what I had always imagined in my husband. 

I—I was going to. 

Please stay. I was working up the courage to come talk to you all night and I would feel like I totally dropped the ball if you ended up leaving without a conversation or at least a number exchange. 

I stayed. Of course I stayed. We chatted for awhile at the mixer and as he was finally able to break the tension and nervousness encompassing me, he asked me to join him for dinner that night. 

It’s silly when I think about it now, but I had fallen in love the moment I met him. The moment he told me his name I started imagining a world where it would be the two of us— Mr. and Mrs. Jason James. And just as I had dreamt and worked for my home— I worked for us. 

We spent the first couple of months enthralled with one another. He would take me out to the newest and fanciest restaurants, take me on shopping sprees and whisk me away on exotic vacations around the world. I was in disbelief of how good he was to me and worried that he would leave me once he found out how dull I truly was. 

As my anxiety grew, he continued to build me up and soon enough he was meeting my family and my closest friends. 

I’m so glad that I got to meet your parents. They’re such good people. I can really tell that they love you and that they would never want you to need or want for anything. 

Yeah. They’re so supportive of me. But you know… financially I’ve been supporting them for the past couple of years. 

Oh really? I thought that your parents were still working?

They are. But I really want them to retire, and there would be no way for them to do it if I didn’t send them money every month.

You are such a treasure. They are lucky to have you. 

It was a conversation I never had with anyone—not even Karen. No one knew that I supported my family the way I had, and a part of me wanted to share it with Jason for the pure satisfaction of him knowing that I was a kind and generous person. That there was more to me than budgets and spreadsheets. I had no idea that this would be the catalyst of everything that would eventually happen between us. 

A year passed and finally Jason and I were married. The engagement came soon after he met my parents and I never thought twice about what it would mean to marry someone beyond the melding of physical possessions and breakfasts in bed. But there’s more than what you see portrayed on tv shows and movies— more than what you could ever expect. 

The problems started shortly after the honeymoon and I tried to brush them off as they were just small issues that all newly married couples have. I hadn’t realized how bad Jason’s finances were until we started sharing bank accounts and credit cards. All of a sudden my perfect credit score of 850 plummeted to the 500 mark trying to keep his debt under control. 

He didn’t seem at all bothered by his lack of savings and I should have been weary from the moment he proposed the idea of adding his name to my account, but I wanted this to work and I gave in. 

Soon enough the money disappeared. The money that I had struggled and fought for grew legs and walked out of my life. And so had Jason. 

It only took him three years to ruin my life. Three years to ruin 24 years of work. It seemed impossible, but I knew I had hit rock bottom when I started to ask my parents for the money they had set aside for their retirement. 

It finally dawned on me another year later that everything Jason had told me was a lie. That all the fancy meals, clothing and trips were actually paid for by me in the end. He had knowingly ruined me for his benefit and no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t find him to confront his deception.

He had disappeared quietly in the night with everything I had, and I had no one to blame but myself. 

That’s how I ended up alone in my one bedroom apartment, co-signed by my parents. How the mighty do fall. 

But I took that experience as a lesson. A lesson to be careful with my heart and even more cautious about the people I share bank accounts with. 

It took a couple of years to get myself back to a place where I had some savings and the decision to go on vacation was much on the whim of not wanting to miss out on anymore of my youth. (I’m still young-ish and should at least enjoy part of it.)

I packed my bags with everything I would need, taking extra steps to ensure I wouldn’t forget anything, I went through my list the night before the flight. And as I double checked my itinerary for the trip, I noticed one glaring asterisk on my hotel room— shared. 

For someone who was so careful about everything, I somehow missed this. I thought about changing my room to a non-shared option and saw the price. It wouldn’t work for the budget I laid out for the vacation— I would have to deal with sharing my space with a stranger. 

The flight seemed quicker than I had imagined it would be, and as I stepped out of the airplane I was greeted with a lei. I had finally done something for myself. I was finally living out my youth! 

The hotel was just as beautiful as promised and more striking in real life than in the pictures I had seen. As I was taken up the elevator to my room, I inhaled deeply soaking up the moment when life felt perfect again and braced myself for the stranger behind the door. 

As the door opened, I caught a glimmer of someone standing out on the balcony. I thought for a second it had been Jason. I thought that in some weird cosmic universe I was going to be able to have my moment of confrontation. And then, as I approached him it became clear— it wasn’t him. I would not have my chance— not this time. 

Hi. I’m Scott. 

And there he was. This tall man with olive complexion wearing a Hawaiian shirt had come to save me and fulfill the third pillar of my life.