You're Bad With Money

“You’re bad with money.” This was from a college girlfriend who spent about $60 a week on weed.

I’m not sure what inspired her to say this, considering I was in college at the time. I saved everything I got. I had no money to be bad with.

I lived in a studio apartment that was a house that was reconverted into three different units. One unit had a revolving room for Mormons that were doing their missions. I saw different faces every few months. The second was below me. A couple who had the biggest part. I paid $125 a month. I was making nothing at the family video store. So I knew the value of money. Meanwhile she was getting support from ma and pa in Maryland. It didn’t help that within two weeks she had moved in with me. Now I was paying all bills and spending money to make her happy. Yet…I was bad with money.

I think most men will have this uneasy feeling about earning money. It’s not really useful to us. As Chris Rock said, we’d live in a cardboard box if it weren’t for pussy. I think we just need a t.v. for sports and a place to shit. Creature comforts cost. And it’s not for our benefit. I think there are times when a lot of guys would want to go back to living in their own filth. In some families I think women do eventually give up. My oldest sister saw the brunt of this when she worked with child services. She’d relay me stories of terrible conditions by parents who just didn’t care anymore. Just a pigsty. And this was okay. They lived in it. Or rather, survived. I always thought my own home was a pigsty. My Mom didn’t do any cleaning. Or rarely. In her mind, that’s why she had kids. We did what we could. In our own rooms.

I never thought I was bad with money. I do get really excited about projects sometimes and will sink everything I own to get a cool project done. I still do that. But I guess I make some decent money now in order to do it.

In college, I made some really terrible mistakes though. I was a gangster when I was drunk. I’d buy tons of drinks and charge it. I’d buy books and art supplies (even though I could make due), because I felt like it. I bought expensive meals for women. Would only drink import beers. Or really fancy liquor. It didn’t matter. Drinking was what cost the most for me. And I drank a lot. I guess, in that sense, I was awful with money. But, because I was drunk, never fully comprehended how bad I really was. I think it was just really bored.