What would you do if you called your parents to tell them some wonderful news about a new development in your life, and they informed you that they are flat broke? And I mean, “We ain’t got no money, honey” broke. Like, they can’t even pay for the toll road broke.

I don’t have much in the way of savings, as I am just now recovering from the divorce. I can send them several hundred dollars, but that won’t solve their long-term problems.

What really, really irks me is the fact that they squandered their money on needless luxuries. During my college days and beyond, I remember they would eat out at elegant restaurants five and six days PER WEEK! Their bills were usually in the $100-$200 range, and that was just for the two of them! My father had a passion for Italian shoes and clothing, and it wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to spend $400 on a pair of shoes.

Even more destructive than their personal spending habits was my father’s business philosophy. He thought nothing of supporting a string of down-on-their-luck deadbeat “friends” by giving them low-responsibility, high-income jobs. Additionally, they allowed my brother to spend two years at an expensive private college, drinking it up and charging $2,000 per month on the AmEx while failing his classes.

My mother has told everyone who would listen how much she and my father spent on my college education, and how their entire business capital went towards funding my studies. That’s the biggest load of bull I’ve ever heard, and I’m tired of listening to their shit and feeling guilty. I graduated from college in 2000 and mostly paid my way through my last two years. I have been independent ever since. Meanwhile, they continued their stupid spending spree until they started to realize, just last year, how dire their situation really was.

I’ve calculated how much my parents could’ve saved if they had curbed ONLY their restaurant habit, and the amount is staggering: $36,000 per year. If they had saved that amount every year since 1996, they would be able to retire in Mexico with a comfortable income. DON’T I HAVE A RIGHT TO BE MAD? I mean, seriously: Who’s the adult now?

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