Family Finance: Who Should Pay The Bills?

Last week I read a tweet asking if a man was meant to foot all the bills for the home when the lady is also working and earning an income. What would the lady do with her money if the guys spends his on the home, he asked. Wasn’t it unfair to expect one party to bear the entire burden of the bills? What about being a helper? Helping with the money aspect?

The tweet made me think about the role of money in marriage. Communication, sex and money are said to be the biggest issues marriage maintenance. And money is said to involved in over 70% of family riffs.

Different models for family finance have been proposed and used in modern homes. They include:

The Not-A-Dime school who believes a man should provide everything including matches, salt and safety-pins.

The 50-50 group that advocates for bill sharing and equal contributions.

The Keep-Your-Money group where the woman will fund the entire family expense with the man doing little or nothing.

The Man-Provides-I-Support group let’s the man take responsibility for large bills like rent, fees, feeding etc while chipping in to provide extras and to tide the family over if the man runs into a rough spot.

What is your preferred model? Which has worked for you or your parents, siblings etc.? Please share below.

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The Way She Winds

He knew the guilt would last for weeks but he drove to her place anyway. Excitement flooded his veins and he smiled to himself. At last ,he was going to let it go, let the dragon out. Eight years ago he would never have imagined doing something so risque, so sinful. Eight years. Time had hurtled by, yet sometimes it felt like a fortnight. Even now he could remember every detail of the first time they met.

*

He was jogging down the road one Saturday morning. Diabetes ran in his family and he was doing his best to beat the odds. His entry level job at private firm kept him submerged in work all week but on weekends he could take a few deep breaths before going under again.

He rounded a bend and heard a woman scream. A young lady was being hassled by some boys. He ran up to them and they fled. The lady was lying prone on the side walk sobbing. Her ankle length jean skirt and long sleeved blouse quivered with each groan.

“Hey, it is okay. They are gone. You are safe now.”

She was new in the area, visiting her aunt during a brief break. Before the incident she was making her way home from prayers. Oscar liked that in a woman, a spiritual side, something more beyond just looks.

He liked other things too: her full lips, the gold flecks in her eyes, her ample curves and her laugh that warmed his insides faster than a cigar. They courted for a few weeks, got married, had a baby,then everything changed.

The doctors said it was a mild case of the blues–post natal depression– nothing to worry about. He watched as she shrunk into herself, refusing food and refusing him. With medication her appetite for food returned but her desire for him disappeared.

At first he thought nothing of the days of coaxing, begging and bribing it took to get her to sleep with him, but soon it became silly, then tiresome, then repulsive.

The worst part was that even when she agreed, the act was as warm as an iceberg. She would lie on her back as still as a corpse, staring at some unseen sight, miles away from him. Not involved. Uninterested.

He had hoped things would get better with time. Age was said to improve a woman’s libido. He hoped in vain. Last month, while he was making love to her, she slipped on her earphones and began hum. When he slipped out of her and stormed out of the bedroom, she didn’t call him back.

By making discrete enquiries he had found Oasis, a place where men like him could get succour. The first time he went there he was overcome with shame. He was a father for goodness sake. A respectable man. But even as he battled with himself, he knew he would be there again.

His phone rang and he frowned as he picked.

“Hello, Katrina”

“Hello Daddy”

“How are you?”

“Fine. Daddy where are you?”

” I am at work.”

“But Mum just called your office number and she was told you left an hour ago.”

“I had to get something to eat and drop somethings off at the bank. Why is your mom looking for me?”

“I don’t know. Daddy when are you coming home?”

“I don’t know honey. I still have a lot to do: reports to write, letters to reply…. I’ll try to be home as soon as I can. ”

“Promise?”

“Promise”

“Okay Daddy, see you soon. Bye”

“Bye dear”

Oscar groaned inside and dropped the call. What was with kids of these days anyway? Imagine his 7 year old daughter playing police with him. So, Maria was calling him at the office?! He took a deep breath and decided to put the phone call behind him when his phone rang again.

This time it was Yolanda.

“Hello Oscar, Oscar? Can you hear me?”

“Yolanda, what is it?”

“Where are you? I have been calling all your numbers and I even called your office. When are you coming home? The pipe in the bathroom came loose and the generator isn’t starting and Rambo is retching at the backyard.”

” So why are you calling me? I am an accountant, woman. Not an electrically endowed plumber-vet! Call Silas to come see the pipes, ask Ade to have a look at the generator and call Dr. Idris, his number is on the kennel. Give me a break for heaven’s sake.”

“Oh! So that’s all you have to say? After leaving home all day I call you in an emergency and that’s all you have to say? Oscar! –”

He dropped the call and switched his phone off bristling with the peculiar irritation of the sex-starved, work-stressed, guilt-rankled male and drove to Bimbo’s house.

The gate-man let him in and he drove past halo-shaped street lamps to a cottage styled BQ behind the large house. Bimbo was waiting for him at the door with a glass of chapman and ice.

“Hey sailor, what took you so long.”

“Lots of stuff. I am glad I made it.”

Bimbo smiled and led him to her boudoir. The lights were a dim lilac but he could make out the couch.

“Use the towel on the dresser. Press the button beside it when you are ready.”

Oscar did as he was told and lay face down on the padded couch. Soft instrumental music played from a central system and a pout pourri of soothing scents filled his lungs. He closed his eyes and imagined himself faraway, on a beach in Hawaii, surrounded by coconuts, palms and a bevy of bikini clad beauties.

Then he felt her fingers on his back. She was rubbing something cool and evanescent on his back followed by an aromatic oil that had traces of menthol.

She worked deftly, running her fingers up both sides of his spine. When she stroked, kneaded and stretched his muscles, he felt the week’s frustrations leaving him, rocks rolling down a cliff. When she began to tap and chop down his spine, he groaned in relief.

She was everywhere. Kneading , bending, tapping and chopping without a word.

” I want to use something new on you,” she said. “It is called The Dolphin. It will loosen your deep muscles and give you a longer lasting sense of relaxation. Would you like to try it?”

“Yes. Yes please.”

The Dolphin was a hand held deep massage device shaped like a leaping dolphin. The snout was replaced by a revolving ball that vibrated when placed on skin. Bimbo guided the snout over his arms and back avoiding the joints.

Then she let her lips continue from where The Dolphin stopped. She lay on him, her body warmth enveloping him. Then she flipped him over and straddled him. As he watched her wind on him with so much passion something erupted in him and he wasn’t in control anymore. He was like a starving man at a buffet. Taking more and more still trying to have everything. When it was over, he couldn’t stand.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“You are welcome. You look like you could use some rest. Take your time. If you doze off, I’ll wake you in thirty.”

“You are an angel.”

“I know,” Bimbo said as she sashayed away.

A Diva Departs

Today we woke up to the sad news of the death of the beautiful and talented Kefee Don Momoh.
This came as a shock despite the earlier warning that she collapsed while on a Chicago bound flight about a week ago.
Information on the actual cause of death seems unclear with some sources claiming she had eclampsia and was six months pregnant while her manager says she died of lung failure and was neither  eclamptic nor pregnant at the time of her demise.

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Kefee will be missed by her fans for her bold and talented performances and christian jams which include Kokoroko and Branama.
Adieu Kefee
Your songs and smiles live on.
Rest in the Lord, Amen.