“Somewhere cheap?” I suggested for a third time in the group Whatsapp with some old friends. My desperate hints to keep costs down now about as subtle as a slap across the face with a wet fish.
It was 11 days into the month and as per usual, my rent, bills and inability to stop spending a tenner on lunch at Wholefoods had left me skint once again.
But later that night, I found my hand trembling as I placed my card down to pay my £60 share of the bill. How the hell had that happened?
“That was pretty reasonable,” my mate said. I desperately scanned her face for sarcasm. Nothing. Reasonable? Like renting a studio in London for a grand a month where the oven is placed next to the toilet is reasonable?
That’s when I was reminded once again that not all of my friends lived from payslip to payslip like I did.
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Post-Uni, our salaries may have appeared to even out to the same tragic and barely liveable amount. But a few years down the line and things have most definitely shifted.
My earnings have increased (a tad) but some friends have seen their salaries soar. I have mates who actually SAVE money (and don’t piss it away on kale salads from Wholefoods). I even have a friend who owns her own home. I thought the homeowner was a mythical creature of London folklore, alongside the efficient rail replacement service and the pop up restaurant where you can actually book a bloody table.
And obviously, I’m proud of how incredibly well these mates are doing. But it’s sometimes hard to navigate your way through friendships when you don’t earn as much.
Money can be awkward as balls to discuss, even with your mates. Which is crazy when you consider the intimate details of your life you do divulge. Most boozy nights out end with a full dissection of recent sexual encounters. Every lazy blowjob and snapped banjo string discussed at length. But when it comes to finances, we tend to keep out bank cards close to our chests.
No one wants to feel like the poor mate whose dragging everyone else down and keeping them from doing things they want to do. But unless I start moonlighting as what I predict would be the least impressive pole dancer, I probably need to be more honest when things are out of my budget.
For instance, when I say cheap dinner, I’m talking less £60 steak and more Wetherpoons Thursday Curry Club. Which is frankly a taste sensation, so eff the haters.
And when it comes to celebrating my friend’s biggest life moments, of course I want to be there for the hen dos, the weddings and the baby showers. But when a see a whole load of them filling my calendar, one weekend after the next, I feel the need to do a nervous wee.
Thankfully, I am fortunate enough to have a couple of best mates who just get it. They may earn more but they’re still happy to enjoy a night on the sofa with me and £5 bottle of red wine from the BP garage.
They understand that with friendship, I can give my love, time and affection to them in endless supplies.
But unless the lap dancing industry sees a huge demand for muffin tops and mum moves, my monthly payslip is sadly all the money I have.
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