There is a surplus of responsible, admirable individuals roaming about the great expanse of the universe who are brilliant at the fine art of saving money. People who are the master of the MasterCard.
I've dated a smattering of these mysterious financially frugal creatures. I've befriended a few, as well. Hell, my own father is one of these elusive dollar-bill-saving entities.
The older I get, the more it feels like the massive world is divided into two distinct parts: those who save money and those who live beyond their means. It's cut and dry. Black and f*cking white. It is what it is.
I fall into the negligent latter category, probably at little to no surprise to you, dear reader.
I've overdrawn my bank account so many times that I should have an honorary master's degree in financial recklessness from Harvard University.
I can feel your judgment penetrating through the static screen of the computer. "Grow up! Get your sh*t together, girl!" is what you're thinking. Unless you're like me. Then this article is for you.
And while the judgmental masses are probably right in that I should get my "sh*t together," I must confess that my free-wheeling financial ways have given me a wonderfully reckless, fabulously spontaneous and undeniably GLAMOROUS life. I've lived a life for the books, my young kittens.
One of the few perks of being a monied mess is I can spot a fellow reckless spender in a heartbeat: her expensive salon blow-dried hair is impossibly shiny, her arms are bedazzled in over the top Chanel costume jewelry, a large designer bag with a gold chain hangs off of her perfectly dead-sea-scrub-exfoliated shoulder.
She looks fabulously wealthy, yet something is off. She doesn't have that natural ease that radiates from the pores of a really rich person.
I watch her stressed to the max as she counts pennies and prays to the high heavens that she has just enough spare change at the bottom of her quilted leather Marc Jacobs bag to afford a cup of coffee at the deli.
I can relate to her anxiety.
I love nothing more than to catch her eye and nod in solidarity. Because there are certain things that only my fellow financial f*ck-ups and I understand about this lifestyle, for we are a sisterhood of sensationalized spenders.
The rest of the world views us as irresponsible, horrendous heathens (they might not be wrong), but I think (in fact, I KNOW) we're so much MORE than that.
Our lives might be reckless -- but they're also fiercely spontaneous and wonderfully glamorous. And our overdrawn bank accounts emulate our fantastic lives with the utmost accuracy.
Here are 10 examples of how our overdrawn bank accounts are the perfect reflections of our glamorous, spontaneous and yes, reckless, lives:
You would rather deal with a credit card bill than miss out on a fabulous party.
You like to revert back to the old Rory Cochrane quote:
Such is the philosophy of a reckless spender. Even if you don't have the financial means, you refuse to be seeped in regret at risking what could be a potentially life-changing party.
We don't want to rob our grandchildren of a fantastic story of a glamorous party just because we weren't sure if we had the finances for the cover charge and $25 taxi ride across town and back.
After all, it's just money. You can't put a price tag on an amazing experience.
You don't live life mathematically.
You just don't live life within the stifling confines of something as trite as numbers. Nothing about you is cold and calculated.
You don't let the mathematics of your bank account dictate what you're going to do today. You run your day; numbers do not.
You give yourself more credit than you actually have.
You have inherent trust in yourself and belief in your future, which is why you're so quick to swipe your credit card.
You trust that you soon will be discovered for your incredible talents, and it's only a matter of time before you're presented with a million-dollar book deal from a top agent.
It's probably happening next week. In seven short days, you will have such fortune that you will surely be able to cover the $450 bar tab you rang in last night.
You have expensive taste.
This something you absolutely can't help: You were born with expensive taste.
You can't help the fact that you have a taste for black truffles, fresh Maine lobster, fine French bubbles and heaping portions of imported caviar. A person can't help what he or she likes after all.
When you're born with a hankering for all that is luxurious in the world, you can't do anything but spend money on the finer things in life.
It's not a want -- it's a need.
You don't look right in H&M -- it never fits you correctly. You're allergic to drug store products. You're a celiac. You get panic attacks on public transportation.
So everyone can back off and suspend his or her judgment because it's not your fault that the only jeans that fit your body are $250 Paige jeans.
You don't live in reality.
Your overdrawn bank account perfectly demonstrates your abhorrence toward living in the dismal throes of reality.
I mean who the f*ck wants to live in reality when you could live a glitter-adorned fantasy world instead?
You're the type of person who never, ever checks her bank account. Because all it does is rip you out of the beautiful fantasy in which you've masterfully created.
You live life with rose-colored glasses, and that's f*cking fine with you.
You don't find logic sexy.
Being logical and living within your means just isn't sexy. Sensual danger, wild adventure and living large are what gets you hot.
When you overdraw your bank account, they refer to it as being in the "red." Which suits you perfectly. After all, is there a sexier color in existence than red?
If you don't see it, it doesn't exist.
You never look at your bank account. You very much subscribe to the "out of sight, out of mind" mentality.
You've become so good at feigning shock when your bank calls you to inform you that you’re overdrawn -- you start to believe you're actually surprised.
You would rather be glamorous than rich.
You would simply rather be wonderfully glam and fashionably fabulous than rich. After all, money (as you well know) is fleeting. What is money -- it's paper right?
Style and glamour are everlasting.
You live by the ATM (AT The Moment).
No one embodies living in the moment like you, darling. You're a dying breed, too.
You unlocked the great secret of the universe at a very early age: The fact that all we have in the world is the HERE and the NOW.
You could get hit by a bus tomorrow morning, but at least you would die in expensive Italian leather shoes and a lifetime full of colorful experiences.
You understand that you just can't put a "price" on convenience.
Let's face it: Saving money is hard work. It's inconvenient. It requires sweeping sacrifices like sweating on subways and toting around Tupperware full of leftover food to the office (how un-chic, ew).
You, my over-drafting sister, are privy to this wonderful truth: You just can't put a price on convenience.
You would rather bask in the air conditioning in the backseat of a taxi than struggle through teeming crowds on public transportation any day.
You would prefer to have your groceries delivered even if it means an additional $5.00 delivery charge and a $5.00 tip.
When anyone gives you a hard time for the life you chose, quote the great Oscar Wilde:
“Anyone who lives within their means suffers from a lack of imagination.”
The beauty of reciting this quote is no one -- I repeat, no one -- questions the words of Oscar Wilde. It shuts a judgmental money-saving drone right the f*ck up.