The Moment I Said It Out Loud
The other day at work, I was standing in the office doing that internal dance we all do. Do I catch an Uber home or do I be virtuous, responsible, mildly inconvenienced and wait for public transport? It had been a long day. My brain was fried. My shoes were plotting against me. I opened the app, looked at the fare, and said out loud, “Well, it’s cheaper than wine, so let’s lock it in.”
One of the younger women I work with burst out laughing and asked for clarity. Fair. On the surface, it sounds like the financial strategy of someone who makes emotional purchases and calls it character development. But I explained that I have a very specific economic outlook. A personal one. Slightly chaotic. Surprisingly consistent.
Most money rules feel like punishment. No fun, no treats, no joy, just spreadsheets and guilt. My Cheaper Than Wine theory is the opposite. It is a small, practical, slightly unhinged way to decide what is worth paying for, without turning every purchase into a moral debate.
The Twenty Bucks Dilemma
Here is the thing. Most of us would not blink at spending twenty bucks on a bottle of wine. We do it without a cost benefit analysis. We do it without consulting a friend like they are the Treasurer. We do it without a dramatic internal monologue about whether we really deserve it. We simply buy it and move on.
Wine is genuinely lovely in the moment. It softens the edges of the day. It makes dinner feel like a scene in a film where everyone has brushed hair and interesting lighting. It can turn a random Tuesday into something more bearable. But by the next morning, what have you actually got to show for it? An empty bottle in the recycling and a slightly cranky brain that wants water and silence.
That is the key part. Wine brings joy, but it is temporary. It does not build anything. It does not leave you with extra time, extra energy, extra comfort, extra calm. So it makes me laugh when we drop twenty bucks on something that disappears overnight, but we will still hesitate over spending the same amount on something that actually improves our life.
The Things We Talk Ourselves Out Of
Now compare wine spending to the way we agonise over services. An Uber that saves you forty five minutes. A cleaner who resets your home so you stop living in a shame spiral. A reflexology session that unties the stress knot you carry in your shoulders like it is a beloved pet. A haircut that makes you look in the mirror and think, oh. She is back.
Services get labelled as indulgent because you can’t hold them in your hand afterwards. No shiny object. No bag. No proof. But the proof shows up in your day. In the way you get home without feeling like you have fought traffic with your bare hands. In the way you eat a proper meal instead of collapsing on the sofa and having girl dinner. In the way you go to bed calmer, which makes tomorrow less feral.
That Uber home, for me, was not just a ride. It was a decision that bought me an easier evening. I got home with enough energy to wash my face, pat Lulu, and exist like a person rather than a tired little goblin who has been trapped in fluorescent lighting since 8.30. It cost less than wine. It improved my actual life. That is the entire theory.
A Shortcut To Better Decisions
Cheaper Than Wine isn’t permission to spend wildly and call it healing. It’s a shortcut for noticing where your resistance is illogical. If you are comfortable spending money on something fleeting, you can also be comfortable spending money on something supportive. Comfort isn’t weakness. Convenience isn’t failure. Support isn’t laziness. It is you making your life more liveable.
The rule helps with the purchases we talk ourselves out of, even when they would make a genuine difference. A better pillow. A decent bra. Fresh bedding. A grocery delivery when your week is stacked. New shoes when your old ones are actively disrespecting your feet. The kind of purchases that remove friction from your day and stop you from suffering on purpose.
The funniest part is how quickly the guilt dissolves when you frame it this way. If a massage is cheaper than a night out drinking, book the massage. If a taxi home is cheaper than the bottle you were going to buy to cope with being tired, tap confirm and go home. If the thing supports you, and it costs less than something you would buy for momentary vibes, why are we arguing with ourselves?
Let Your Money Work For You
I am not pretending I have transcended wine. I still love a glass with dinner. I am not auditioning for sainthood, minimalism, or a life where every cent is accounted for in a colour coded app. I am just trying to be consistent, and kinder to myself about what spending is actually for.
Money isn’t only for bills and survival. Money is also for shaping your daily experience. It’s for reducing stress where you can. It’s for buying back time when you are stretched thin. It’s for small comforts that make you feel like you are living your life rather than enduring it.
So next time you are hovering over something that would genuinely make your day smoother, ask yourself one question. Is it cheaper than wine? If the answer is yes, stop holding a parliamentary inquiry in your head. Lock it in. Go home. Let your personal economy work for you instead of against you.
We Need to Stop Clapping for Basic Decency – Chaos, Crumbs and Clarity
If this post helped, inspired, or made you smile, you can support my work with a tea or tip over on Ko-fi. Every bit helps keep the chaos flowing.
Check Out My Other Forms
Discover more from Life & Style with Bry Jaimea
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
