My $13,489 Dinner

5.2 min read

Dinner. Eggplant Parmesan. Cost: $13,489

I feel like Sophia from The Golden Girls. “Picture this, 1987: a young and naive girl who made many bad decisions.”

In 1987, life was a whirlwind. I had just moved into my first apartment with my partner, a tiny space that felt more like a closet than a home. I was juggling part-time college classes, a small business, a ballet studio draining my savings, and a full-time data entry job at Prudential, which was barely covering my bills. I drove an old but paid-for vehicle that my parents gave me. He had a job and a car that constantly was breaking down.

My days were a blur of work, study, and stress, and my nights were filled with worry.

My finances were a constant source of anxiety.

My part-time business, which I had hoped would bring in extra income, was instead costing me money. In retrospect, I should have just closed the business. Fun fact: I have been self-employed ever since. But I did make it harder on myself in those early years.

The rent for my apartment and the rental for my business space were suffocating.

My budget was so tight that it could snap at any moment. I lived on a ramen noodles and spaghetti diet, cooked in my dark, cramped kitchen.

The weight of my financial struggles was almost unbearable.

My partner and I argued all the time—over money and morals. Mind you, he did have a job. He was great at getting jobs. In our 18 months together, he had about seven jobs.

Anyhoo.

He spent his checks on himself; he was more name-brand-focused and always wanted the illusion of wealth instead of being wealthy.

I wanted the illusion of love and respect, so I played along.

I also was hell-bent on having that little business.

It was a match made in hell- or at least an illusion.

We argued about not having money and, when money came in, where it was being spent.

He needed a vehicle and begged me to help him get his dream Pontiac Fiero in candy apple red- almost $14,000, which was exuberant in that era and certainly for two people with no extra money to spare. (For those unaware, this was a limited-run sports car, a tie between a Corvette and an MG Convertible.) It was his car but in my name.

Things quickly spiraled downward after that.

We broke up. Even the apartment was in my name, so he left. He was also forced to leave the car.

At first, this was great.

I was single now, free, unburdened. I felt I deserved to treat myself as a celebration of my new life.

The next evening, I reached my breaking point.

He left and took some food with him as payment to his friends, who helped him move out.

I was tired of the monotonous, cheap meals and the relentless pressure of my financial situation.

It hit me that the bills were all in my name, and he took all the money out of the joint account, the only one I had at the time.

I felt like the bills could wait until tomorrow.

Dinner: Desperation and fatigue drove me to a small pizza place near my apartment. I decided to treat myself, to forget my troubles for just one night. I ordered eggplant Parmesan, a dish I had always loved but rarely indulged in.

For that brief moment, I felt a sense of freedom, as if the heavy burden of my financial woes had lifted. It wasn’t prudent, and I didn’t care.

But reality hit hard the following day.

I woke around 5 AM to a tow truck taking the car away.

I was frazzled. I looked at the bills. He was supposed to be paying the car payments for the three and a half months we had this vehicle.

He didn’t make a single payment.

I was left with the bills, the debt, and a repossession on my credit report- and the hard lesson that sometimes, love isn’t enough – and illusion is never enough.

That eggplant Parmesan, a simple meal, symbolically cost me $13,489—the price of the repossessed car and the financial turmoil that followed.

It was a bitter pill to swallow but also a turning point. That meal symbolized the end of my financial ignorance and the beginning of my journey into financial self-awareness and therapy, even before I knew what financial therapy was.

In the aftermath, I learned some of the most valuable lessons of my life.

I discovered the importance of self-reliance. I could no longer depend on someone else to manage my financial well-being.
I had to take control, budget meticulously, and plan for the future.
I learned to avoid the feast-or-famine mentality that had led me to that fateful dinner. Instead of swinging between deprivation and indulgence extremes, I sought balance and stability.

I also learned the importance of transparent financial boundaries in relationships. My experience taught me to be cautious about financial entanglements and to ensure that any partnership, romantic or otherwise, was built on mutual respect and shared responsibility.

Today, I look back on that $13,489 eggplant Parmesan not with regret but with gratitude for the lessons it brought. It was a costly education that shaped my approach to money and life. I still haven’t eaten eggplant Parmesan since that night—it left a bad taste in more ways than one.

But the wisdom I gained has been invaluable. It set me on a path to financial stability and independence, ultimately leading me to financial therapy, where I now help others navigate their economic challenges. If you are suffering right now, know that these are your training wheel moments; you will survive. If I survived this before I hit age 22, you will also survive.

Not all challenges are debt; many of my clients are incredibly wealthy.

Financial anxiety and stressful financial decisions are not discriminatory; they hit everyone at some point.

That 24 hours in 1987 was a turning point. It taught me that the most painful experiences can sometimes lead to the most profound growth. And for that, I am thankful.