Not long ago, when the financial reality of my divorce was hitting hard, I had dinner with one of my oldest and dearest friends. Over wine and entrees, I kvetched about how most months it was difficult to pay the mortgage and the heating bill and groceries for four, all by myself. Carmen* is also divorced and raising children, but she had just landed a new, great job. It was hard, consuming work, but the salary was fabulous—way more than double or triple my own, I think.
When the bill came, I took out my credit card so we could split it, and she told me to put it away.
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