Lucy and I have been friends since we were ten. She’s seen me through bad relationships, stressful house moves and a divorce.
So why, in our late 40s, have I distanced myself from her, without even a conversation telling her why?
It may sound harsh, particularly as there was no dramatic fallout. But for years I’d felt a festering resentment towards Lucy that I could no longer endure, borne of the fact that while I’ve worked my backside off, Lucy’s life was – and still is – funded by her parents.
Because although the Bank of Mum and Dad is synonymous with cash-strapped 20-somethings, at 49, Lucy is still taking handouts from her parents, now in their 70s.
She goes on four foreign holidays a year and lives in a beautiful three-bed Victorian house that her parents – who own a vast property portfolio – bought outright.
While some may be embarrassed to be in such a situation, Lucy has zero intention of ever taking responsibility for herself – an attitude which has left me seething.
And to top it off, she regularly pleads poverty – claiming her job as a beautician means she has less disposable income than my corporate career has provided, while failing to mention her other form of ‘income’.
In fact, it was only in our 30s that she first admitted to me her parents were providing her with regular funds.
I discovered the reason she was so carefree was her parents paid for pretty much everything. Picture posed by models
For years, I simply thought Lucy was fun-loving and choosing to spend all her earnings on having a great time, rather than save hard like I was.
I was in awe of her carefree approach to life and, when I went through a divorce in my early 30s, I was thrilled that she scooped me up, whisking me off to parties with her group of single friends.
That was until I discovered the reason she was so carefree was her parents paid for pretty much everything. It all came out when her house – which they bought for her at 28 – needed completely rewiring to the tune of thousands of pounds. When I expressed sympathy, she replied: ‘Oh, it’s fine, my parents are paying.’
My reaction was that this was a generous gesture from them… until she revealed her parents were footing all her bills. I lost some respect for her that day. What I’d seen as her achievements were no such thing. And I resented that always calling on her parents allowed her to have such a carefree attitude.
My parents are feeling the pinch of ever-rising bills. They’ve never been in a position to offer me financial support – and even if they were, I wouldn’t want it at my age. I’m proud to be financially independent. Ironically, as I threw myself into my career and started to earn more money as a trader in the City, Lucy showed glimpses of resentment if I got a bonus or a promotion.
She’d make passive aggressive comments about my successes, such as: ‘It’s alright for you with your big bonuses.’
She’s a beautician but an idle one, only working when she feels like it. By the time we reached our mid-40s, a few of us in our circle began to mutter our disgruntlement that Lucy just wouldn’t grow up.
What really started to grate was that she combined expensive tastes with protestations that she’s strapped for cash, blind to the fact that if she’s without funds, it’s because of her splurging in the knowledge her parents will pay her bills.
I’m grateful my parents haven’t been able to help me out. It’s taught me the value of hard work
And she seems to think her friends should be as happy to bail her out as her parents are.
I recall a dinner in a London tapas restaurant where she ordered everything on the menu and when the bill came said, ‘Oh, I don’t have enough money to pay for that!’, meaning my partner David and I had to pay. She never repaid us.
Shocked and furious, I realised the source of the growing frustration I’d been feeling towards Lucy wasn’t her financial advantages, but her failure to recognise them and her assumption someone else would always pay her way. My decision to put her at arm’s length coincided with burnout forcing me to give up my old career – and six-figure salary – three years ago.
It forced me to reassess what’s important in life, including my own relationship with money – and with my friends.
My health struggles gave me an excuse to turn down her invitations to socialise, and since then I’ve continued to discreetly slip away from her.
You may wonder why I haven’t just had an honest conversation with her, but I don’t think she’d understand.
Don’t misread my resentment as jealousy, though. I’m grateful my parents haven’t been able to help me out. It’s taught me the value of hard work and given me a sense of self-worth Lucy will never know.
And she’s got a big shock coming. Her sister – who doesn’t freeload from their parents – has told me she’ll have a bigger inheritance when the time comes, to make up for everything Lucy’s received.
Yes, Lucy lives a charmed life. But when her Bank of Mum and Dad does close down, I fear its legacy will be a sad one.
- Holly Jeffs is a pseudonym. All names have been changed.
- As told to Sadie Nicholas.
