Monday, October 30, 2017

Finances 101

A lesson in finances 101. No matter how friendly you think you are with your ex, no matter if you consider yourselves to be soul mates continuing long after you have finished your relationship, complete the finances, get everything sign, sealed and delivered, as they say. 

We had everything in both our names long after we were in relationships with other people. Mark had access to our mortgage that I had taken over as a part of our break up. He got one house. I got the other house and the mortgage. (We both already owned a house each when we met) He had access to, what was now, my mortgage and he used it as finance when he needed to. Both houses remained in both our names.

"It will be fine, Mark and relationship will never sour," I said to my friend Jill, which used to infuriate her.

"Don't leave anything to chance," Jill used to say. "Better to be safe than sorry."

"We're not leaving anything to chance," I'd reply. "You just don't understand what Mark and I have."

So for the longest time, my ex and I thought it would all be wonderful until the day we were old men staring at our final sunset. Eventually, at least 10 years after we'd split up, Mark got his finances straightened out because he has a kid, well, actually, the kid came of age and got it all straightened out for him. Mark always thought things would be cool between the two of us, as I did.

But, you know, as the kid straightened out all of Mark's finances, my still small voice said to me, as a gentle whisper, "time for you to do the same." I kept hearing this. "time for you to do the same." Yes, yes, I thought, I know you are right. "time for you to do the same." Okay, okay, already. 

And eventually, five years after that, I called our old Jewish solicitor, (we used the same solicitor, always did) Myron Swartz, whose first words to me were, "You know somethink, Christian, I have been vorried about jou for zee longest time."

"How so?" I replied.

"Well, Mark's daughter gave me quite precise instructions of vhat to do for Mark, but vhen I asked about you, she told me to do nothink. Nothink?  said Myron. "Zis vas crazy stuff! But, I hadn't heard from you, my boy, vhat could I do?"

"She told you to do nothing?"

"Yes, nothink," said Myron. "I thought it vas very strange. But vhat could I do?" 

I think Mark and I were Myron Swartz's first gay couple. And I think he kind of liked it, somehow. I don't know why, but I just got that impression. He always seems to take a shine to both of us. Mark always said he took a shine to me. "You know he wants you," Mark would say jokingly.

"There's a Mrs Swartz of 35 years standing." Myron used to tell me, my vife of 35 years. 

"Why do you think he always told you that?" said Mark.

"Don't be ridiculous."

Anyway, we straightened it all out, it took a little time, but then it was done.

Anyway, now it would appear, all these years later, that Mark and my relationship is souring. Mark has a few money issues. Mark is the Hare and I am the tortoise. He spends all of his money as soon as he gets it, and fortunately, he has always had a great talent for business, but, as I said, he never saves any money, never has any in reserve, which usually always works for him. And as I said, he is clever and he gets things done, up and running, in the time it takes other people to grasp the ideas of what they should do. It is, of course, a part of his makeup, a part of who he is, a part of his feelings of success about himself.

Me, on the other hand, I'm the tortoise. Steady and sure as I go. I always have savings, I always have money in the bank. I am very cautious with what I spend and in what I invest. I don't splash the cash around. I don't feel the need to pay for everyone. I don't ever want to spend all of my money. That just isn't something that gives me pleasure. I sleep soundly at night knowing no matter what happens tomorrow, I have the reserves to see my way through even the very worst scenario.

So, as it turns out, we have come to a point in our lives, when Mark is skint, and I am flush. Oh, before you feel too sorry for him, he has assets, just no ready cash. He has a large debt, that he is having trouble paying and he thinks I should have offered to pay it.

And I have said no.


And he is really shitty about it. He has always thought I did better out of our breakup, but again, I save my money, I don’t spend it. Apparently, we have always looked out for one another, (my interpretation of that is that I have always looked after him… and, perhaps, on one of my bad days, I might say Mark has always looked after Mark) and I have now betrayed the trust we have always shown each other.

I say, me paying his bills is not sustainable. He needs to take action to fix his spiralling expenses, me continually picking up the tab, when I no longer work, will only drain my finances as quick as it is draining his.

And besides, I am not his partner any longer, I haven't been his partner for 15 years. I have been with Sam going 8 years.

So, I am now very thankful that I did straighten out my finances and that they are separate to Mark's. Oh yes, I am very thankful. (Laugh) I'm not going to tell Jill that she was right, she would enjoy that just a little too much.

I kind of miss those days, with our Jewish Lawyer, Myron Swartz, and our Jewish Accountant, Asher Leibowitz. "Clayton to Caulfield," the two of them used to say. "Ve got it covered." What those two couldn’t come up with? I tell you. The laid back, well dressed, Myron and the fat, gravel voiced, chain smoking, always with his shirt tail hanging out, Asher.

Asher just smoked in his office, fuck OH&S rules.

“Can I smoke?” I asked questioningly when I first saw him in his office. It stunk like an ashtray.

“If you smoke, smoke. You wanna smoke, smoke. Smoke. I smoke. You smoke. We all smoke. You can smoke.”

“Okay then.”

“Here, let me get you an ash tray.” He’d dig under the piles of papers covering his desk for one. Mark hated Asher because he never stopped talking. Never… stopped… talking.

Myron had a neat desk, with only the applicable paperwork out on it. I’m sure he had vanilla candles burning somewhere.

Asher went to Guido to get his pot supplies. Naturally. I’m sure, Mark hooked the two of them up. Asher was a quite a head. Guido said he was one of his best customers. We were all devastated when Asher lost everything in the GFC and consequently killed himself. We were all upset, each, possibly, for different reasons. Best accountant I ever had. A huge number of pills and a plastic bag over his head, was his method of choice. Is that even a thing? I thought.

“Are you sure that it legal?” I’d ask Asher.

“What’s legal?” he’d say. “Who looks at it? Who decides? We all come up with different interpretations. It is all just a matter of how you look at it.”

I’d look uncomfortable with the explanation.

“Perception?” he’d say. “You just have to look at it the right way, to get the right answer.”


"I... see?"

“The department is too underfunded and too understaffed to investigate anything off its own bat,” Asher would say. “Economic rationalisation, the best financial friend we’ll ever have,” he’d say. He’d laugh his throaty laugh, and lower his voice as if the truth deserved its own reverence. “Everything I do is legal, babe. It is called tax minimisation, not tax avoidance. Use the rules, they are your best fucken friend.” He’d laugh again. “I’m not driving my business into the wall to get some punk a few extra dollars, pay the right amount, but don’t pay a cent above what you have to.” He’d slide another white filtered Kent into his mouth. He was always sliding a white filtered cigarette into his mouth. “Cigarette?” He’d hold open his wooden cigarette box in midair, holding it by the lid.

Myron retired a few years ago. 
(I kind of think Myron put the accent on, but that is neither here, nor there)

End of an era.

So many eras ending.



It seems like a different lifetime.

Love affairs, friendships, professional relationships, they all end, one way or another. You've got to be ready for it, be smart, or wise, and look ahead, see what's coming. (Shrug, hands raised up) Be prepared.

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