I am 55 and, since the break-up of my marriage 20 years ago have supported my children until they left home and have been responsible for my own finances. I have not been able to provide well for my old age and have limited savings but apart from a mortgage and small amounts on credit cards I do not owe anyone anything and take pride in paying my way.

Recently I starting living with a man I now consider my partner, in his flat, renting out my own property. I work full-time; my property rental income mostly covers the mortgage. I contribute to our joint outgoings but on an ad hoc arrangement. My partner has his own business and is senior partner in a firm of solicitors. I do not know how much he earns but am aware that it is very much more than I do.

I do not know where we stand financially and have repeatedly asked that we sit down and discuss how joint expenditure is to be arranged, but we have still to do it. Each month I buy food, cinema or theatre tickets and do my best to contribute what I think might be an equal amount for the utilities, council tax etc. I find this very unsatisfactory as I am not able to budget and my salary is such that I need to. He is aware of the state of my finances and that if the relationship lasts he will need to support me. I am very independent and would wish the situation to be otherwise.

The problem is, I think he is tight with money. It is not unusual for me to be asked to contribute an exact half share of total holiday expenses, including all meals and drinks, airfares and hotel. A new year visit to Cornwall resulted in me paying for my food, accommodation and petrol although we did have a discussion beforehand and I genuinely thought that my share would be the petrol — in fact a note was put on the kitchen noticeboard saying £40! I was then asked to pay £200 when his credit card statement arrived and an extremely unpleasant argument followed when I was accused of wanting a “meal ticket”.

Nothing could be further from the truth. This is the one thing that will cause resentment (on both sides, I guess, for different reasons) and fills me with fear as to my future with him. I would welcome your thoughts.
Rose

The central question raised by your letter is as relevant to the young as it is to the middle-aged: how far can we change people? It ought to be easier for twentysomethings not set in their ways. Yet I expect we’ve all met ones with the demeanour of old fogies, while some happy 60-year-olds have a gift for perpetual reinvention. The point is, whatever their age, those who have battened down the hatches on their habits are very hard to live with, since any successful relationship requires an ebb and flow, a give and take, a stretch and release, or however else you want to describe that adaptation and change which is essential to all things.

Beware of a chap who says: “I always drink with my mates on a Friday” when his girlfriend invites him to her Mum’s birthday dinner for the first time. Steer clear of a woman who refuses to give up the yearly shopping trip to New York with her friend, even though her new partner is worried about the mortgage. Independence is good, but self-centredness isn’t, and the line between the two is often so fine as to be all but invisible. And after all, living together requires interdependence, or else why bother?

Should we try to change people? “I love you with all your faults” rarely works, and if the beloved loves in return he/she will want to please — even as far as giving up an addiction such as smoking. It may seem harder to learn new habits of mind than of behaviour; how to share is a mystery far beyond how to hold a fork. Yet lack of personal hygiene indicates a dis- regard for other people, and lack of generosity shows the same. You don’t say how long you have known this man, or that you love him; your letter gives no indication of affection or common interest — unlike the one from Mary with the ill-mannered lover. It makes me worry (just a little) that two people with actuarial tendencies have found each other, and are doomed, if not careful, to count the cost.

One of my absolute bêtes noirs is meanness. I detest people who quibble over restaurant bills, and if anybody accused me of wanting a “meal ticket” I would be off cooking in my very own kitchen once more. You dignify him with the name “partner”, yet what partnership is this, when you have to guess what the council tax is, and he won’t do as you ask and sit down to discuss joint finances, while allowing you to treat him to the theatre? Maybe he was hard-up as a child. Perhaps he was never taught to share toys. Maybe, never married, he’s terrified of commitment — which would be another explanation for his penny-pinching ways. Whatever, it goes without saying that first you should examine your own actions, and be honest. Have you given any reason to think his prosperity matters? Also, if you won the lottery, would you choose to be with him? Having decided you really love this man and want to stay with him for that reason only, you must work out a strategy.

Holidays could be a good way into this vital conversation. If you have a break planned between now and the spring, I would open a bottle of wine and explain — all loving gentleness with no whiff of accusation — that you can’t possibly go away. You must not seem injured at any point because it will be counter-productive. Explain that you know he respects your independence, your budget won’t allow a holiday in the foreseeable future, but say it’s fine — he could go with X. Remember — all this with calm good humour. Fetch a breakdown of your monthly income and outgoings, saying you have been wanting to ask his advice for some time because he knows more about this than you do (and never mind if this is true or not!). Does he think you should put more aside? Does he think it would be better for you to repossess your flat, since you’d be able to save more there — and of course you could go on seeing each other in the old way?

This is non-confrontational. It doesn’t say, “We need to talk” but “Help me here”. I’d hope that it would start him imagining the holiday (and the rest) without you, and realise how high a price he might pay for not treating his lady as a real partner. He may learn to look after you, if you in turn allow him to see that you need that loving care.

E-mail your problems to: bel.mooney@thetimes.co.uk or write to her at: times2, 1 Pennington Street, London E98 1TT. Detail such as your age is helpful. Please include your real name, but we will use your pseudonym if you wish

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