He’s had to be careful with money, like his parents and their parents were, because there isn’t a safety net to fall back on. Each month, he goes through his bank statement with a highlighter – he knows exactly what money is coming into his account, when, and the different directions each pound will need to go back out to. My dad is one of those parents that can’t hide his disbelief when we go for a coffee and he realises how much they cost now. And I wouldn’t change it – we had so much fun – except for the memories of my parents worrying about money. While money was tight, I don’t remember ever feeling bored or like a better life was being had somewhere else. We spent our summer holidays in seaside towns across the UK, eating chips drenched in vinegar from a cone and running around outside. I had a loving and humble upbringing, raised in a terraced house in a part of London that is only now shaking off its bad reputation. I thought for a brief time that it might be a coincidence, that with London becoming increasingly off-limits for people from poorer backgrounds, it could be that the pool of men is over-populated with privilege.īut recently, I’ve been wondering if this is my way of leaving it behind.īy seeking these men out and ‘dating up’, am I trying to shake off my working class roots in search of escapism, security or out of shame? It’s uncomfortable to talk about, in a society equal parts obsessed with and avoidant of conversations around money and class. If I haven’t been clear – he was ‘from money’, a shameful trend of mine that has been the constant in my dating life.Īt 29, I’ve only dated men from backgrounds that bear no resemblance to my own, having been raised in a working class family.
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