We're Not Rich: The Ultimate Cville Confession

So, we're having an event at our house.

Most of the people coming to this event own their houses, their nice, clean houses.

We rent. Yes, we do! We rent our house! And, it's an old house. The deck is crumbling. Spiders infest. It's impossible to make it look clean, because it needs to be painted. Our furniture is mostly secondhand. And: we don't have enough cash to run out and buy stuff to make us look more... decent.

So the challenge for us is to avoid feeling ashamed about our house around the more wealthy people who will be coming. I mean, it's not that we're keeping up with the jones' type - we've made other choices... Our family kind of happened all of a sudden. We're abnormal. I suppose I should embrace this.

I guess for me it's more like I don't want anyone to assume that THIS is my taste, you know? It's not that I care about showing that I have moola.

I actually kind of grew up like this, caught between worlds. My parents were poor, by choice, but intellectuals. I made friends with rich people, invariably, whose houses were grand compared to our little shacks. So I should be used to this - to holding my head up - hoping I'm not judged on the quality of the carpet I'm not looking at.

I just wish we didn't feel so outnumbered. I wish that I could somehow make friends with people who didn't have trust funds or wealthy parents or cushy jobs, enough so they have managed to purchase overpriced houses in this crazy real estate market.

Am I the only one, secretly not affluent in this crazy, souped-up little expensive town???

How do people do it??