Can we still be friends now that he has more money than I do?

His text lands while you're standing at the stove. "Found a place on the water for the long weekend. Flights are on me if you want in." You smile, you really do. Then your stomach does that little drop, and you put the phone face-down next to the salt.

This is a friend you've known since your kids were small. He's the one who helped you move your mother's furniture. He knew you before your youngest started school, and he still remembers how you take your coffee. And somewhere in the last few years, his money went one direction and yours went another.

Let's talk about the thing neither of you has said.

The pinch nobody mentions

You can be proud of him and still feel a pinch. Both are true. You watched him work, you listened to him worry, and you cheered when it paid off. Now you're doing math in your head that he doesn't even know you're doing.

That doesn't make you petty. You've had to think carefully about what you spend, and now you're noticing how differently the two of you make plans.

At our age the gaps come from everywhere. One of us kept a steady job and a decent cushion. One of us raised children mostly alone. One of us lost a spouse and started over from a lower step. None of it is a grade on your character. It's just where life set the furniture.

So feel the pinch. Just don't let it drive.

A willing gift doesn't make you less of a friend.

The invitation you can't afford

Let me tell you about a friend of mine, Harold. We've known each other since before I was a widow. A few years ago he did well, and for a while he kept proposing things: a show with good seats, a dinner at a place with cloth napkins, a weekend away. I kept saying "maybe" and "let me check," and I felt smaller every time. I was waiting for him to guess. He wasn't guessing. He was just a man who liked sharing good things and didn't know my limit.

Here's what happens when the invitations keep coming and you keep dodging. He starts to feel turned down. You start to feel pitied. Neither of you says so, and two decent people get very polite all the way to the end of a thirty-year friendship.

Finally, one Sunday after church, I said, "Harold, I love that you think of me. Most of that is past my budget, and I'd rather tell you than keep dodging you." He was quiet, then said, "I didn't know you were dodging." We laughed. Then we found a rhythm: some things he picked, some things I did, and plenty we shared in ways that had nothing to do with dollars.

So when his invitation comes, your stomach drops, and suddenly you're trying to work out how to say no without making it awkward. You don't have to make an excuse. Give him the truth and another way to spend time together.

Something like: "I want to see you, and that one's out of reach for me. Can we do Saturday at my place? I'll make the greens, you bring the music." That isn't begging. That's a grown woman offering a real plan instead of a polite fib.

You don't have to wait for him to read your mind. A plain answer gives both of you something to work with.

One more thing. Before you answer any invitation, decide what you actually want. His company? A different plan? A little time to think? Any of those is a fine answer, as long as you say it plainly.

What if the invitations keep coming?

But what if you tell him and the expensive invitations keep coming? That can sting, especially when you've known each other long enough to remember splitting a plate of fries. You've been honest; you shouldn't have to keep explaining your limits at the door of every new restaurant.

Bring it up when neither of you is making plans. You could say, "I love spending time with you, but I keep feeling like I have to turn you down. Can we choose some things together that work for both of us?" Give him a chance to answer. He may not have realized that the invitations were leaving you out rather than drawing you in.

Then make a plan together. Pick an afternoon for the two of you to cook, or let him choose the music while you choose where to meet. If he wants the fancy dinner another night, he can enjoy it without you having to stretch yourself to be there. Friendship has room for more than one kind of evening.

And if he keeps brushing past what you've told him, pay attention to that. You can care about a long history and still be honest about how the friendship feels now. You don't have to argue your way into being considered. Ask for what you need, then let his response tell you what the two of you have to work with.

When generosity starts to feel complicated

Sometimes he does offer. "Let me treat you, I want you there." Your pride jumps up and your gratitude sits down, and you don't know which one to feed.

If he offers to treat you and you want to accept, say thank you. You don't have to prove you could have paid. You can appreciate his generosity without expecting him to pay every time. A willing gift doesn't make you less of a friend.

Then give back in the currency you have. Show up when his sister is in the hospital. Remember the day he lost his father. Be the friend he can count on for an honest answer, even when it isn't the answer he hoped for. Money is one way to love somebody. It has never been the only way.

Now the other side of the table. Maybe the scorekeeping is coming from him. He mentions what he covered last time. He sighs at the check. He says, "I've got it, like always," with a little edge. That's no longer generosity. That's a receipt.

You can say it kindly: "When you bring up what you've paid for, it takes the pleasure out of the evening. Let's pick plans we can each afford." Then watch what he does. A real friend adjusts. One who doesn't may be telling you the friendship came with terms, and you are allowed to protect your peace.

And if you're the one with the comfortable life while a friend keeps hoping, the same rule works from your chair. You can say, "I'm glad to treat you sometimes, but I can't be the plan every time." You are not required to buy a friendship you can't relax inside.

Girl, this is just the grown-up version of splitting a sandwich. Same fairness, bigger stakes, more feelings.

Between us

Between us? I've buried a husband, and I can tell you the friends who stayed were never the ones with matching bank accounts. They were the ones who could sit at my table and want nothing from me but me.

If there's a man in your life you've been quietly dodging, don't wait for the silence to harden. This week, pick one honest sentence. Maybe it's "That one's out of my range, but I want to see you." Say it, then suggest something simple you can both enjoy. You can make room for the friendship without spending money you don't want to spend.