Am I the only person who ever feels the need to justify their shopping to the cashier? Because this happens to me regularly, and it gets worse when it’s someone I know. Last night, I was at Wal-Mart and bought an inordinate amount of candy. When I realized that my friend Mea was working that particular register, I immediately had to explain to her that it wasn’t for me.
It was the truth: I’m putting together a care package to send to my little brother at college. I had to tell Mea the whole story, because I don’t want her thinking I’m a pig who eats that much junk food. Of course, this wasn’t nearly as awkward as the time I was purchasing unmentionables at Old Navy and the only line open was run by a male friend of mine.
Spending money is not something that comes easily to me, particularly when I don’t have a lot of it (which is most of the time). Even when I am more solvent, I'm reluctant to indulge. Tracking my expenses, I’ve noticed that I am much more likely to splurge on something for someone else. “I'll buy you a diamond ring, my friend, if it makes you feel alright.” My true motivation behind buying even DVDs is so that I can spend time enjoying them with other people.
My primary love language is quality time. I have no trouble picking up the tab at Friendly’s, because that means I just spent time with Amanda—even though I know that money could have bought four or five times as much food at the supermarket. Money doesn't mean a lot to me, but the stuff it buys does to some people. When I get a ridiculous amount of candy for my little brother, I hope he remembers me when he eats it and then it’s almost like we’re hanging out.
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