For Love or Money

Every year Abraham goes on a ski trip. As soon as he got back from the last one, he informed me that I would be going on the next one.

"The trip this year is going to be in February," Abraham emailed me and attached a long string of planning correspondence.

"Yeah. Sure. No problem."

I didn't really think anything of it other than my fear of powdered snow. I learned to ski in the South, which consisted of my middle school teacher attaching me to skis and then pushing me down a hill covered by a fake grass mat and a garden hose. I've been skiing a few times in North Carolina, but even that was fake snow. I've never been in powdered snow.

When Abraham added me to the planning emails, I started understanding the cost of things: the plane ride, the rental SUVs, the ski chalet. It would cost $800 just to get out there, not including food and rental equipment and lift tickets or any activity we actually want to do in the Rocky mountains. This was a $1,200 vacation, and we weren't even going to Europe.

I looked at my bank balance. I could afford it. I could write a check for it. But then I wouldn't be able to afford the bedroom furniture I had been saving for when Abraham and I move in together. And when I move in with him and his roommate, it's going to be cramped enough as it is without factoring missing furniture where I was planning to store my clothes. It would be another two or three months after I move in before I could order the master dresser.

While Abraham was sitting on the couch and looking at cabin rentals (minimum requirements: 5 bedrooms, ski in/ski out on the mountain, private hot tub), another email arrived:

"Sorry, guys. Looks like flights went up again since we last checked."

I gritted my teeth. This was getting expensive.

"What's wrong?" Abraham asked.

"I don't go on vacations like this. My vacations are weekends away at friends' vacation houses. Or a $250 cruise. I'm not used to spending this much money."

I dropped my head. "This was my furniture money."

Abraham knew how much I wanted the new furniture. It matches my current bedroom suite and is seemingly only available on the Internet because it's a few years old. The only reason I didn't buy it earlier is because it wouldn't fit in my apartment's tiny bedroom.

"I want you to have a good time and not worry about the money," he said. "I don't want you to not participate in things because it's too expensive. I invited you on this trip; I'll pay for lodging and whatever activities you want to do while we're there."

It was a lovely gesture, but I was embarrassed nonetheless. He's paid for hotels when we've gone to his friends' weddings, and he paid for my airfare when we went to meet his family, but this is different. This is a vacation.

I've always supported myself. My parents never paid a single bill of mine. If I couldn't afford something, I wouldn't go. I'd complain to my mom that I was missing out on things with my friends, and years later I found out that my friend's parents still support most of them. They couldn't afford it either, but did it anyway.

I value my independence. I'm proud of my independence. So it makes me uncomfortable to accept Abraham's money. He jokes that it will soon all be mine anyway. Which does raise a valid point: soon there will be no his and mine, but ours.

In the meantime Abraham pays for certain things and won't accept money from me. I'll write him a check and he won't cash it, so I've resorted to dropping the money in his PayPal account without telling him. I don't want him ever to feel like he's carrying me or that I'm a burden.