There is an expression I am fond of: “the proportional half.” At first glance, it sounds like a mathematical mistake. If something is divided in half, the two parts must be equal; if it is divided according to each person’s means, they very probably will not be. But some understandings are poorly described by mathematics, because what we want to share is not simply an expense: it is the burden of meeting it.
To me, that phrase means this: we can contribute different amounts and still feel like equal partners. Not because we pretend the numbers match, but because neither of us avoids our part and neither asks the other to give what they cannot. One puts in more, the other less; both, however, are doing their part. The difference does not divide them or give either a more important place at the table.
It is a simple idea, and it reaches beyond the bill for a meal. It concerns how a couple builds a life together and how a family shares money, time, responsibilities and help. Dividing everything the same way may seem the most impartial solution. Sometimes it is. At other times, it is simply the solution that spares us the effort of understanding people.
Half is not always the same amount
An identical sum can weigh very differently on the people paying it. For one person, it means giving up very little; for another, it means reaching the end of the month with one more worry. The receipt does not record that difference. It shows how much we paid, not what it cost us to pay it.
Saying “we went halves” is therefore not enough to prove that we were fair. If we know our means are different and ignore that simply because the arithmetic works, we can arrive at two equal figures and leave two people in very different circumstances. An accurate calculation does not excuse the lack of care with which we divided the bill.
It is not enough to divide the expense into two equal parts; we need to ask whether we are sharing the burden, too. This does not impose a compulsory percentage on every couple. It means deciding on our shares together, considering what each person can truly afford after essential needs are met. The proportional half is, above all, an agreement to act in good faith: I will not hide my means, and I will not make you ashamed of yours.
Fairness begins with deciding how much to spend
There is a question that comes before dividing the cost: who decided how much to spend? If one person suggests a restaurant, a holiday or a way of life that the other cannot afford, they cannot ignore that difference when it is time to pay. A choice is shared only if both people can discuss it without feeling inadequate.
The person with more resources can offer to pay a larger share, or they can choose something less expensive together. But the offer must leave the other person’s freedom intact: to accept comfortably, to prefer a simpler evening, to say that a particular expense does not interest them. Paying for two is not enough if it then means deciding for two.
Nor would the opposite be fair: choosing carelessly in the knowledge that someone else will always make up the difference. Consideration is not required only of the person who can spend more. The person contributing less must also respect the money, work and willingness to help that they receive. What a generous person offers still has a cost.
When this understanding works, no one has to defend their dignity over the bill. They have chosen something enjoyable within their means, talked about it and accepted the cost together. There is no benefactor accompanied by a debtor: there are two people who wanted to enjoy being together and found an honest way to do so.
What does not appear on the receipt
Within a family, money tells only part of the story of how people contribute. One person brings home a salary; another spends many hours caring for the children, the home or a parent who needs help. Someone organises, remembers deadlines, takes people where they need to go, prepares things, gives up a commitment so that the other person can keep theirs. These things make a shared life possible, even if they do not arrive as a bank transfer.
It would be unfair to say “I support everyone” while counting only what comes into the bank account and forgetting the work we benefit from every day. It would be equally unfair to use a real contribution, financial or domestic, as a reason never to consider the other person’s tiredness. No entry in the accounts automatically releases us from the rest of the relationship.
I do not think we need to put a price on every gesture. I would not want a family in which people present a bill for listening, cooking or spending a night beside someone. But I would want the things without a price not to be treated as though they had no value. Even the quietest willingness to be there takes energy and deserves recognition.
In this sense, the proportional half is not only about what we have. It also concerns time, health and the responsibilities we already carry. We can earn the same salary and bear very different burdens. And contributing more money does not entitle us to buy the other person’s time, as though their rest were an unnecessary expense.
Helping those who cannot, without taking over for those who will not
This is where, however, I feel the need to draw a line. Taking circumstances into account does not mean accepting every kind of behaviour. I can understand a difficulty and do more than my share; I find it hard to accept someone turning that willingness into a reason never to do theirs. Supporting one another does not mean making it worthwhile to avoid responsibility.
Making this distinction requires care, because we cannot see everything from the outside. Someone who cannot find work is not, for that reason, unwilling to work. Illness, a strain we do not recognise or a caring commitment can place real limits on what a person can do. Income alone is no measure of merit; independence does not always depend on willingness. Before judging, we need to understand, without inventing diagnoses or demanding humiliating proof of suffering.
But there are also people who could take on a responsibility and keep postponing it because they know someone will step in. People who defend every wish of their own and leave others to deal with the consequences. People who regard their own expenses as essential and their contribution to a shared life as negotiable. In these cases, what makes the relationship unfair is not a lack of resources: it is a lack of consideration for the person making up the shortfall.
Having fewer resources does not make you worth less; having someone to help you does not release you from every responsibility. Helping can mean meeting a necessary expense, agreeing on a manageable commitment or supporting someone as they work towards something. It need not mean approving every choice or endlessly repairing the consequences of a deliberate refusal to make an effort. A boundary, too, can be a way of caring, if it addresses a specific behaviour and does not become a condemnation of the person.
Do not forget those who do their part
Another kind of unfairness arises when all the family’s attention goes to those who ask, protest or are constantly in difficulty, while those who organise themselves, keep their commitments and do not raise their voices become invisible. “You’re capable; you’ll manage”: it sounds like a compliment, but it can become a reason never to ask that person how they are.
I do not think that every act of help for one child must immediately be balanced by a gift of the same value to the others. A particular need may require a particular response. If someone is facing an illness or a difficult period, it would make little sense to turn that need into a competition over compensation. Affection is not shown by giving everyone the same sum on the same day.
But we also need to notice those who receive less help. The balance they have found may have cost them sacrifices, work and worries they have never spoken about. If we always step in for those who neglect their responsibilities and take for granted those who honour them, we end up sending a painful message: making an effort means having to manage alone, while not bothering means finding someone ready to provide.
Gratitude towards the people beside us cannot amount only to expecting them to remain there. We need to recognise their contribution, ask what they need and stop assuming they can always give more. A family can direct more resources towards someone going through a difficult time without giving less attention or consideration to those who make no noise.
A proportion to reconsider together
No one stays the same over time. We study, work, lose an income, develop our careers, become ill, regain our energy. An understanding that is fair at one stage may cease to be so at the next. This is another reason why the proportional half should not become a formula fixed once and for all, especially convenient for whoever benefits from it.
We need practical conversations. What can we afford? Who is overburdened? Which responsibility can we redistribute? What help do we need now? Not to inspect each other’s every receipt, but to prevent expectations from remaining unspoken and resentment from building in silence. An agreement is not truly shared if one person accepts it only because they are afraid of appearing ungrateful.
Giving more does not buy the right to give orders. Receiving more does not mean losing our voice. And no one should live under the threat of being reminded, at the first disagreement, of everything that has been done for them. Gratitude has value when it is freely given; used as a debt to collect, it becomes another form of imbalance.
There may be a period when someone’s share is very small. A vulnerability may also last a lifetime. Not every act of help can be repaid, and not every relationship will end with the accounts balanced. This does not make responsibility pointless: it asks us to set it according to what people can actually do, without demanding the impossible and without calling something impossible when it is merely inconvenient.
What I would like to leave my children
My children, I would like all three of you to carry this expression with you: the proportional half. Not as a rule for paying less, but as a way of seeing the people beside you. Before asking the same thing of everyone, ask yourselves whether you are also asking for the same sacrifice. And before considering yourselves generous, look at what others are already doing for you.
If you have greater means, do not use them to make someone feel beholden to you. You can lighten a difficulty without making the weight of your help felt. If you have less, do not be ashamed to say so or to receive help. But be honest in distinguishing what you cannot do from what you would prefer to leave to others.
Do not measure a person’s worth by the money they bring, and do not measure love by a willingness to pay for every consequence of your choices. Someone who loves you can help you and can also tell you that a responsibility is yours. Listen without automatically mistaking a boundary for rejection.
Pay particular attention to those who ask you for nothing. Sometimes they truly are at ease; at other times they have simply learnt not to be a burden. Do not force them to become a problem in order to receive your consideration. And when you build families of your own, make sure the dependable person is not always the one asked to make the last sacrifice.
The proportional half does not mean everyone giving the same thing. It means being able to say honestly that no one is leaving to others the part they could do themselves. Within this understanding, there is room for vulnerability, generosity and boundaries too. To me, it is one of the most practical ways of loving one another: knowing that we do not all have the same resources, while taking one another seriously when we say we are building something together.
Papy