There is something very attractive about the idea of a low-maintenance relationship.
You have your own life. They have theirs. Nobody needs to text all day. Nobody is checking your location or asking why you took 12 minutes to respond. You can spend time apart without somebody deciding the relationship is falling apart.
It sounds peaceful.
And it can be.
But sometimes I wonder if we've started using “low-maintenance” to describe something that is actually just low-effort.
Because there is a difference between not needing constant attention from your partner and not wanting to put much effort into the relationship at all.
I've thought about this a lot through my own experiences dating, especially when it comes to money. The older I get, the more I realize that liking someone and actually building a life with them are two very different things.
You can have chemistry.
You can have fun together.
You can love each other.
And then real life starts happening.
The bills come in.
Someone has a bad month.
The groceries are getting expensive.
The house needs cleaning.
You realize you have completely different spending habits.
And suddenly you're not just figuring out whether you like each other anymore.
You're figuring out whether you can actually live together.
Sometimes you don't really know someone until money gets involved
Imagine dating someone for years and then moving in together.
That's when you discover they think buying the newest sneakers is a perfectly reasonable use of $300 while you're thinking about the credit-card bill sitting on the counter.
Or they love going out every weekend while you're trying to save.
Maybe they order food constantly.
Maybe you are the person who looks at the bank account and thinks, We should probably cook tonight.
Neither of you necessarily did anything wrong.
You just have very different ideas about money.
And when you're single, that difference mostly affects you.
When you're sharing a life with someone, it affects both of you.
This is one of the things I've noticed in my own dating experiences, and the more I've looked into relationship research, the less surprising it seems.
A longitudinal study of 4,574 couples found that financial disagreements were the strongest type of disagreement examined in predicting divorce.
Another study looking at what couples actually argue about when they argue about money found recurring issues around unequal contributions, shared expenses, different financial values, unilateral spending decisions and perceived irresponsibility.
Which makes sense when you think about it.
A fight about $200 isn't always about the $200.
It can be about whether you feel your partner is responsible.
Whether you feel like you're contributing equally.
Whether you feel like you're working toward the same future.
Or whether you feel like you're the only person thinking about what happens six months from now.
And sometimes the problem is that your actions are saying something completely different
This is where I think financial communication gets really interesting.
If your partner tells you they're broke, obviously you shouldn't pressure them to spend money they don't have.
But what if they tell you they're broke and then spend $130 partying?
Or buy new clothes?
Or gamble?
Or buy takeout often?
Then you suggest going to dinner together and suddenly it's:
“I could’nt afford that.”
I think most people would be a little confused.
Not necessarily because they think their partner owes them dinner.
But because people learn from what they see.
If you regularly spend money on things you don't technically need, your partner is going to develop an understanding of what you consider affordable.
So when you say, “I don't have money for that,” they may start wondering:
Do you actually not have the money?
Or:
You just don't think this is worth spending money on?
Those are two completely different things.
And yes, there are times when your partner should simply accept that you said no.
But I also think we have to be honest about our own behaviour.
You can't constantly demonstrate that money is available for shopping, going out with friends, or gambling and then expect your partner to have no reaction when you suddenly say there's nothing available for something you're doing together.
That doesn't make your partner entitled to your money, or that they don’t want you to do things with other people.
It just means your behaviour is part of the conversation too.
Your partner shouldn't have to guess what your financial life looks like
I think some people treat talking about income like they're revealing a state secret.
And obviously, you are allowed to have financial independence.
You don't have to combine your bank accounts.
You don't need to ask permission before buying yourself something.
But if you're talking about marriage, living together, children or building a future with someone, I think eventually you need to be able to say:
This is what I make.
This is what I owe.
This is what my bills look like.
This is what I can realistically contribute.
This is what I'm trying to save.
Because how are two people supposed to plan a life together when neither knows what the other person's financial reality actually is?
Research published in Family Relations in 2024 found that earlier financial discussions among newlywed couples were associated with healthier financial communication, with the study also finding relationships between financial communication, marital satisfaction and financial disagreements.
And honestly, I don't think budgeting should only be something couples do.
I've noticed in my own life that the times I have the most money left over are usually the times I've actually decided where the money is going before I spend it.
If I know that this amount is going toward bills, this amount is groceries, this amount is savings and this amount is for me to enjoy, I don't end up wondering where everything went.
Why wouldn't we do the same thing in relationships?
If money is tight, maybe you decide you can afford three dates a month.
Maybe each one has a $150 limit.
Maybe you split the cost.
Maybe groceries are $100 a week.
Maybe you sit down and figure out who is covering what.
It sounds painfully unromantic, but TRUST ME so is arguing about money every month.
And honestly, I'd rather have one slightly uncomfortable conversation about a budget than ten arguments about why somebody spent too much.
Sometimes compromise is just... compromise
I think this is where the idea of a low-maintenance relationship gets a little complicated.
Because relationships are supposed to have boundaries.
But they're also supposed to have flexibility.
Sometimes your partner is going to ask you to do something you don't particularly want to do.
Maybe they want you to come to their family's dinner.
Maybe they need help moving.
Maybe they want to watch a movie you couldn't care less about.
Maybe they need to have a conversation about money when you'd much rather avoid it.
Sometimes you do it anyway.
Not because you don't have boundaries.
Because you care about them.
And hopefully, they do the same for you.
There is something very different about mutual compromise and constantly sacrificing yourself for someone who never gives anything back.
One is a relationship.
The other is resentment waiting to happen.
Not every difficult relationship is a bad relationship
Research from John Gottman and his colleagues has found that many relationship problems are persistent rather than completely solvable. Gottman estimates that roughly 69% of marital problems are perpetual — differences that tend to come from enduring personalities, habits or values.
Which is actually comforting.
Because maybe your partner will never care about money exactly the way you do.
Maybe they'll always be a little messier.
Maybe you'll always want more time together.
Maybe they'll always be more social.
Maybe you'll never agree on every single thing.
That doesn't automatically mean you've chosen the wrong person.
Sometimes the question is simply whether you can figure out how to live with those differences.
And I think that's something social media doesn't always leave much room for.
We're so used to seeing relationships summarized as:
Red flag.
Leave.
Know your worth.
And sometimes that's exactly what someone needs to hear.
But sometimes two people just need to sit down and figure something out.
Maybe the goal isn't a relationship that requires no work
Interestingly, Canada's divorce rate hasn't exploded over the last decade. Statistics Canada reported 7.5 divorces per 1,000 married people in 2019, compared with 10.1 in 2010. The 2020 rate fell to 5.6, although Statistics Canada notes that disruptions to the court system during the pandemic affected that number.
So maybe the bigger conversation isn't about whether we're all suddenly getting divorced because relationships are too hard.
Maybe it's about what we've started expecting relationships to feel like.
We want peace.
We want independence.
We want boundaries.
We want someone who makes our life better.
Of course we do.
But eventually, someone is going to have to talk about the bills.
Someone is going to have to decide how much the groceries can cost this week.
Someone is going to have to admit they spent too much.
Someone is going to have to apologize.
Someone is going to have to compromise.
And sometimes, both people are going to have to put their pride aside and admit that the way they've been doing something isn't working.
That's not necessarily a sign that the relationship is failing. Maybe it's the opposite.
Maybe putting in the effort to fix something before it becomes resentment is part of what makes a relationship work in the first place.
Because love can make you want to build a life with someone.
But it can't build the life for you.
Try sitting down and being honest with one another. Budgeting is free.

