It seems I have been practicing delayed gratification all my life, and I can’t even remember how I got that way.
In the beginning it might have been out of necessity, although I cannot rule out the influence of my paternal grandmother.
Lola Enchay was frugal with home and personal expenses, not whimsical or vain at all. She was able to save quite a bit of the monthly budget and acquire, through the years, a collection of jewelry and some land. “Personal investments,” she said.
Lola was proud to have managed with whatever Lolo gave her. She never asked for more, and told us repeatedly, in Spanish, “You should never make your husband feel inadequate in money matters. You should make do with whatever he gives you.”
True, she never asked Lolo for anything—anything at all— as though not asking were some kind of virtue. But then she was lucky; Lolo was always so sensitive to her she didn’t have to ask. Lola’s pride and delicadeza were family legend. Knowing how proud she was, Lolo gave her an oversized budget.
Still, Lola’s example somehow made me feel guilty spending money on myself, especially since I didn’t earn any. I lived many years saving up and buying only on bargains while splurging on home and children.
Some of my friends, in their own frustration with their husbands, started buying their own special-occasion gifts and surprised them with the bill: “Look what you’re giving me for our anniversary, Sweetie!”
My first husband might have even preferred I did the same. But for some strange reason, I didn’t want anything if I had to ask for it. Too proud or just naïve, I wasn’t being practical; I wasn’t doing anything to help myself. Instead I waited passively until the things I insisted on waiting for, especially those money couldn’t buy, never came and finally broke a relationship made progressively fragile through the years. I just one day became convinced there was no relationship to speak of at all.
Suddenly on my own, with limited cash, though with a piece of property I could live in, I really had to be wise about money. Self-denial was not new to me, and, with its twin, the good sense of delayed gratification, I was served well.
I parlayed my single asset for two, one to live in with my four children, the other to rent. Except for being too generous with my children, out of both love and a sense of guilt, I guess, I lived modestly and have managed to keep my head above water to this day.
Ridiculous
Now, well into my 70s, and in a vibrant relationship for nearly 30 years, all of a sudden, prudence, frugality and guilt seem out of place, if not outright ridiculous.
I don’t give a hoot if my husband remembers my birthday—although he never forgets. I don’t need to justify or have an excuse for doing or buying something for myself. But, again, it helps that Lola Enchay remains a nagging advisor and that there are plenty of things I still don’t have but don’t need. If you wait long enough, you’ll find out.
Waiting is still my first impulse when I see something I like or want to do. This, too, shall pass, as the psalm says. I’ve learned, in fact, to enjoy the waiting. So, when I wait for the 50- or 70-percent discounts and the yearlong payables interest-free, I’m not just practicing self-discipline but getting a kick out of the deal.
As late in the game as it is, it’s not so easy to change gears, go full throttle, and throw caution to the winds. In fact, it still feels strange having to put myself at the top of my own list of priorities, although I may just get the hang of it. It’s like, having dieted all my life and acquired good eating habits, I can now eat just about anything. But my stomach has shrunk, and I’ve lost all desire for rich food.
It seems I’m not the only one stuck in this worrisome habit about money. When one of the husbands at the next table overheard us wives talking about how expensive something we liked was, and all of us thought it prudent to wait, he couldn’t resist coming over to our table to ask, “What are you girls saving up for, anyway?”
What, indeed? Still it takes getting used to spending even on well-deserved pleasures and even with tomorrows scarcely there to save for.
In any case, it’s nice to remember the hungry years knowing they’re well behind us now. But what remains happiest to think about for me is being alive and well, and being an equal half of a partnership in which one is at the top of the other’s priority list.