I really shouldn't be trusted with making important decisions right now

This week has been a tad stressful. Mostly because B and I had a big decision to make, and as we learned, neither of us are very good at making big decisions. This is partially because as soon as I make up my mind, I panic while I consider every worst case scenario that will surely befall me simply because I made the wrong choice.

But this week we had to figure out what the next six months would be like for us. Since B's work dries up around here during the summer months, he spent last year living with his parents and teaching tennis on the South Shores of Boston, where he could make the big bucks. His parents own a couple tennis clubs outside of Boston, and B's last name seems to be the tennis authority in their town. And it worked well for us. I stayed here with the dog, and B went up north and raked in the dough. He had to save up for a big purchase last year, after all.

It makes sense for us to do the same thing this year. With the wedding in September, we'll be shelling out more than a few dollars over the next few months. And then there's all that jazz that happens after the wedding. Like maybe someday buying a house? The market is pretty ideal for first time buyers, right? And you know how when you buy a house you usually need a down payment? And how a down payment involves a payment. Of money. And blah blah blah. Blerg?

ANYWAY. This summer. A few months ago I brought up the possibility of B spending this summer here. Maybe getting a summer job at a country club in the area. Teach the country club biddies and their Lacoste-robed children Nathanial III and Emily Rose how to swing a racquet. Because frankly, I hate living alone. It's a total drag. I miss B when he's gone. Last summer I ate cereal for dinner four nights a week and would conduct entire conversations with my dog. I'd even craft his replies in my head and respond to his questions. We spooned while we slept. We shared a pillow. If I had to get up in the middle of the night to pee, I brought the dog with me to protect me just in case I walked into my living room and discovered a burglar. Or a ghost. I'm sure it happens all the time.

But this summer will be different. Primarily because the dog we have now is a jerk. And I'm pretty sure he wouldn't be able to protect me from any buglars. Even child burglars. And definitely not ghosts. But also because the summer is my favorite. And I'd like to spend it with B.

So after putting his feelers out there in the Philadelphia tennis community, B was offered a couple of jobs. They pay well and provide plenty of hours. Naturally, when he told me he was staying, I was elated. Thrilled. I wouldn't be the crazy dog lady this summer. I'd be spending my evenings drinking cool wine with the man of my dreams. I'd be able to go down the shore on weekends. Since I didn't have to worry about the dog being alone too much, I could go to happy hours with friends. We could go to baseball games. Awesome. But then I panicked.

Down here B would be working a lot. Too much. He could make slightly more money up north, working half the amount of hours. I think he'd have a nicer, more relaxing summer up there. He'd have more opportunities for long weekends, and (since his home town is on the beach) beach trips. But now it's too late. I expressed my worry about living alone this summer, and B doesn't want to leave. He'll be working 50-plus hours a week here, but he'll be here every night. He'll have some time off on weekends, but not nearly as much time as he would up north. But the job here offers steady work from April until September. His regular job down here starts to dry up now, and doesn't pick up again until the end of September. So even if he went north from June until the end of August, there'd be a lot of time he'd spend not working.

But up north, he'd be making so much in such a short time, that it wouldn't matter that he only works a few hours a week in April and September. The pay would even out. The club up north heard he was considering staying down here and countered with a slightly fatter paycheck. What about the money? We could use that extra cash. For a lot of things. Will it be significant? What about him? I don't want him working that much. He needs to have fun this summer. My panic sent him into a panic. And we spent every night this week debating the pros and cons of leaving and staying. I'd spend days prophesizing about the importance of happiness over money. And then the next night I'd worry over every single penny we've spent in the last year. He made charts. And did math. I watched him do math because I have problems with basic arithmetic. We'd rationalize everything. Then throw it all out the window. I'd repeat my mantra it's up to you, it's up to you, so I don't feel like a total asshole if B's down here working his tail off.

B has to give his decision to both clubs by this afternoon. Tweet