• My wife and I have had different salaries throughout our eight years together.
• Over the years, we've tried different mortgage splits, eventually landing on a 50/50 breakdown.
• We decided to continue splitting the mortgage equally, even after I got laid off.

Ever since my wife and I started dating about eight years ago, we've talked openly about our personal finances.

From the very beginning, we discussed our 401(k) withholdings and emergency funds. These conversations became even more important when we started living together and sharing expenses about a year into our relationship.

As a queer couple, my wife and I have always believed that we can write our own rules when it comes to how we approach our finances.

Our incomes have varied over the years for many reasons, and we've tried several different payment breakdowns before finding what works for us.

Over the years, we've divided our mortgage payments a few different ways to find what feels 'fair'

About a year into our relationship, my now-wife moved into the condo that I had bought on my own. At the time, I was working in tech and earning a higher base salary, as well as annual performance-based bonuses and stock that added to our salary discrepancy.

I knew that my mortgage was higher than the rent on a place we would have chosen together based on our combined income. So, we decided I would pay the bulk of it, but we'd split the costs of groceries, utilities, and internet, as well as shared vacations.

Five years into our relationship, I sold my old condo, my wife increased her hours at her job, and we bought a townhome together.

This time, we decided to split our mortgage payments in proportion to our base salaries, which felt like the fairest thing to compare since annual bonuses and stock awards from my company could vary. This came out to a 60/40 split.

Over the next two years, my wife's base salary got closer to mine as a result of union negotiations at her hospital. Eventually, once our salaries were essentially at parity, we shifted to a 50/50 split.

When I got laid off from my tech job, we had to reevaluate what was 'fair'

Almost eight months into our new system, I was laid off from my tech job.

I had savings in my emergency fund from my years working there and received severance, but I was suddenly in a different financial situation than I'd been before.

For the first time in our relationship, my wife was the higher earner.

We talked about moving back to a proportionate split. My wife reminded me that we were a team, and said she'd be open to covering more of our mortgage and expenses. But between my savings, severance, and bonuses I'd made over the years, I was able to continue splitting the mortgage evenly, and I wanted to.

At the end of the day, reverting to a different split might have been "fair," but it didn't feel fair of me to put the responsibility on my wife to pay more of the mortgage.

I knew that paying a much larger share of the mortgage would bring undue stress on her, and I also knew that I could afford my half, even without my steady paycheck.

Defining fairness on our own terms has felt empowering

It's now been over a year since my layoff, and splitting our mortgage and expenses 50/50 has continued to feel right for both of us.

This isn't to say she's not supporting me during this time. Right now, my wife continues to work full-time while I'm doing freelance and contract work for various clients. She's covering more of our grocery expenses, and I'm also on her health insurance.

We're a team, and I'm learning to accept her help in ways that feel fair to both of us.

We both know that our jobs, housing situation, and approach to personal finance will evolve, especially as we build our careers. What matters to us is having ongoing check-ins about whether our mortgage breakdown feels right and supporting each other equally in other ways, too.

After all, what's just as important is celebrating each other's accomplishments, encouraging each other to learn new skills, and contributing to our household and the labor it takes to run it. Money is only one piece of the puzzle.

• I dined at Shake Shack, Five Guys, and Smashburger with a $20 budget.
• I ordered similar menu items at each chain — a cheeseburger, fries, and a milkshake or soda.
• One chain impressed me most in terms of both flavor and value.

Fast food has long been considered a convenient, affordable meal option, but as the price of food continues to rise, even a simple order of burger and fries can quickly approach $20.

I wanted to find out how far that budget would stretch at some of the country's most recognizable fast-casual burger chains — and whether any of the meals would actually feel worth the price. So, within the same week, I visited Shake Shack, Five Guys, and Smashburger.

I ordered a similar meal at each restaurant and compared the taste, portion sizes, and overall value. Here's how it went.

Shake Shack was my first stop.

Unlike the other two chains I visited, Shake Shack is a publicly traded company. It began as a hot-dog cart in New York City's Madison Square Park before becoming a permanent kiosk in 2004.

Today, the chain has over 700 locations around the world. One recently opened near my house, so it seemed like the perfect time to give it a try.

The ShackBurger was simple but satisfying.

I ordered a single ShackBurger ($7.79), which came with an Angus beef patty, American cheese, lettuce, tomato, and the chain's signature ShackSauce.

The patty was cooked well and had a nice sear, with thin, crispy edges. The cheese was also perfectly melted over the top.

I especially enjoyed the ShackSauce, which was creamy and tangy, and tasted like a blend of ketchup, mustard, and mayonnaise.

The crinkle-cut fries were crispy and well salted.

As a side, I ordered the fries ($4.99). These were crinkle-cut, nicely salted, and crispy on the outside.

I usually prefer very thin fries, but these had a satisfying crunch that won me over and paired well with the burger.

I had enough left in my budget to add a vanilla shake.

For dessert, I ordered a vanilla shake ($6.49). Although it had a pleasant, classic vanilla flavor, the consistency was thinner and more watery than I would have liked. To me, it seemed slightly overmixed.

Overall, I thought this was a solid meal for the price.

My burger, fries, and shake cost $19.27 before tax and tip. The meal wasn't particularly inventive, but everything tasted great, and I got a nice portion with dessert while staying within my budget.

Next, I visited Five Guys.

Although Five Guys is now a global chain, it remains a family-owned business. Jerry and Janie Murrell opened the first restaurant in Arlington, Virginia, in 1986.

Today, the restaurant has about 1,900 locations worldwide, including approximately 1,500 in the US.

Despite its popularity, I had never eaten there before, so I was curious to see how far my $20 would stretch.

My burger was completely customizable.

Unlike Shake Shack, Five Guys didn't serve its burgers with a standard set of toppings. Instead, I was instructed to build my own from a long list of included options.

I ordered a Little Cheeseburger ($9.25), which came with one beef patty, and I added lettuce, tomato, pickles, and ketchup. It arrived tightly wrapped in foil, which left it slightly squished.

The patty had lightly crispy edges, and I liked how the cheese melted into the meat. However, of the burgers I tried, this one reminded me the most of traditional fast food.

I couldn't quite pinpoint what created the familiar taste, but I think it was the combination of the salty, umami beef and the bun's slight sweetness.

In my opinion, the taste was reminiscent of something I'd get at McDonald's, which made the higher price harder to justify.

The small fries came in an enormous portion.

I also ordered a Little Fry ($5.30), which arrived in a brown paper bag visibly stained with grease. According to the Five Guys website, this is because the fries are soaked in water and absorb less oil when cooked.

Despite being the smallest size on the menu, the portion was massive. Adding an extra helping of fries to each bag has been a Five Guys tradition since the chain opened. This explained the surprisingly large serving and made the price feel like a better value.

They tasted good, but much of their flavor came from how oily they were. I could see myself enjoying them as a late-night indulgence, but they were greasy enough that I worried eating too many would give me a stomachache.

The higher prices left no room in my budget for a shake.

Because the burger and fries cost more than they did at Shake Shack, I couldn't fit a milkshake into my $20 budget. Instead, I ordered a Diet Coke ($3.30), bringing my total to $17.85 before tax and tip.

Although I spent less at Five Guys overall, I also received less variety for my money.

Lastly, I made my way to Smashburger.

Founded in Denver in 2007, Smashburger is owned by Jollibee Group, the Philippine-based restaurant company whose portfolio also includes Jollibee and The Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf.

Smashburger's online directory currently lists 158 open and upcoming locations in the US, and four in Canada, making it the smallest of the three chains I visited.

I had eaten here before, but it had been years since my last visit, and I had little recollection of my experience.

In my opinion, this burger tasted the freshest of the three, and the fries were delicious.

I ordered a single Classic Smash ($7.89), which came with an Angus beef patty, American cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, red onions, pickles, ketchup, and signature Smash Sauce.

I appreciated that all of my preferred toppings came standard, so I didn't have to customize anything. I also loved the addition of a signature sauce, which was creamy and tangy and gave the burger another layer of flavor.

The beef itself tasted especially fresh, with a clean, pronounced flavor that wasn't too salty or greasy. The patty could have had more pronounced lacy edges, but the seared crust still added a slightly charred finish. The cheese was nicely melted, and the soft, pillowy bun reminded me of a potato roll.

I paired my burger with the SmashFries ($4.19), which were thin, shoestring-style fries tossed in a blend of rosemary, garlic, and olive oil.

I had enough left in my budget to add on a vanilla shake.

To round out my meal, I ordered a vanilla milkshake ($6.49). It was noticeably thicker than the one I received at Shake Shack and came with a spoon.

It had a creamy, milky flavor, but otherwise tasted like fairly standard vanilla ice cream. It wasn't especially memorable, but I enjoyed the consistency.

My burger, fries, and shake cost $18.57 before tax and tip, allowing me to get a complete meal with dessert while staying comfortably within my budget.

Overall, I thought my meal from Smashburger offered the best combination of taste and value.

Before tax and tip, I spent $19.27 at Shake Shack, $17.85 at Five Guys, and $18.57 at Smashburger.

Shake Shack gave me a complete meal with dessert within my budget. Nothing stood out as especially memorable, but it felt like a solid, reliable option at a reasonable price.

Five Guys had the lowest total and provided by far the most fries. However, its more expensive burger left no room in my budget for a shake, and the greasy fries and standard burger didn't feel worth the price. Although I spent less overall, I felt like I received the least variety for my money.

For $0.70 less than Shake Shack, Smashburger gave me a burger, fries, and a thicker milkshake. Its burger tasted the freshest, and the thin, rosemary-seasoned fries were easily my favorite.

Ultimately, Smashburger made my $20 stretch the furthest without sacrificing taste. It offered the best meal, the most distinctive flavors, and the strongest overall value.

Business Insider reached out to Shake Shack, Five Guys, and Smashburger for comment.

• When we left Canada and moved closer to my husband's family in the UK, I pictured a fun adventure.
• Our move caused a lot of financial strain, and living near family didn't go the way I expected.
• After seven months, we returned to Canada. Looking back, I should've been more realistic.

I pulled down the extendable ladder covered in cobwebs and dust and watched dead woodlice roll down the steps onto the new carpet in our bedroom.

With a deep breath, I willed myself to go up into the attic — a place I hated to go — to retrieve our family's suitcases and duffel bags. We were heading back to Canada, and it was time to start packing.

When we had moved to England seven months earlier, I never imagined returning so soon.

At first, moving to the UK felt like it could be a grand adventure

Packing up a life in Canada and starting a new one in England had been a herculean endeavor, but I had been excited to do it.

For two years leading up to our move to the UK, my husband, two kids (ages 7 and 10), and I had been settled in Alberta, Canada.

As much as we enjoyed it, I ached for a new adventure; something different. I didn't feel particularly connected to our community, and our day-to-day lives had felt monotonous for a while.

Some of our only reprieves as busy young parents were monthlong summer holidays spent with my husband's family in the bucolic British countryside.

We enjoyed these trips so much and looked forward to them for weeks, from planning excursions to castles and museums to researching the best local restaurants and pubs.

When we arrived, we loved taking day trips to nearby locales and eating fish and chips by the seaside. I started wondering if living in England would be just as enjoyable and exciting as these monthlong stints. Maybe it'd also satisfy our longing for adventure.

Although moving meant leaving my extended family in Canada behind, the idea of our kids spending the rest of their childhoods with my husband's family nearby felt like the right next step.

My in-laws also seemed excited about the arrangement, as they offered to help pay for my visa application to live in England permanently.

My (more skeptical) husband decided he'd continue running his business in Canada after we moved, occasionally commuting back every few weeks while working remotely from the UK in between.

After six months of figuring out some logistics and filling out paperwork, we boarded our flights.

Not long after the move, reality began to sink in

We arrived in the UK in September 2025, lugging heavy duffel bags, suitcases, and backpacks, feeling exhausted, sweaty, and weary from a much-delayed flight.

We were ready to be in our new home. Home, however, did not yet exist.

For the first week, we stayed at my husband's grandparents' place, which was vacant while they were on holiday. We spent it navigating sleepless nights, trying to get over jet lag, and dealing with horrible colds.

From there, we bumped around to three different Airbnbs and holiday accommodations. My husband returned to Canada for a three-week work stint while I earnestly tried to find us a place to live.

Securing a rental was more challenging than anticipated, and it felt unlikely that a landlord would approve our application. My husband was still earning Canadian income, we had no local credit history, and we had two kids — yet we were trying to rent a smaller (read: more affordable) home.

After six weeks and more than 20 different applications, we finally had a landlord agree to rent us a beautiful, newly renovated historic cottage that couldn't be more picturesque.

It was, however, at the very top of our budget. We knew we were heading into a precarious situation, but we could no longer afford to keep staying in vacation rentals.

We signed a six-month lease with the help of my in-laws, who loaned us the deposit and acted as guarantors, and moved.

We faced more and more challenges as we settled into our new home

Our new rent ate up so much of my husband's pay that we couldn't live the way we had hoped.

There wasn't room in our budget for the fun things we'd dreamed about doing when we moved here, like overnight stays in nearby towns and small trips to other parts of Europe.

And as a Canadian living in the British countryside, I increasingly felt like an outsider who would never fully be accepted.

My accent betrayed me every time I spoke, prompting locals to assume I was on holiday despite my residential status. Giving the full explanation of why I left Canada to live in the UK felt so exhausting that I started to just let them believe I was on vacation.

When I'd imagined my life here, I pictured being surrounded by a close-knit community of friends and family. Instead, I mostly felt alone in a new place while my husband, who understood the local culture, spent weeks at a time working in the country we'd left behind.

On top of that, we realized how challenging it can be to go from seeing loved ones a few times a year to living close by and having more frequent interactions.

Being near my husband's family didn't go as well as I'd hoped; instead, it seemed to lead to a series of disagreements and misunderstandings.

In less than a year, living permanently in the UK no longer felt worth it

Although I hated the idea of "giving up" after all of the time and effort we had put into the move, building our dream life here no longer felt possible, and we returned to Canada after less than a year.

Looking back, I realize excitement clouded my judgment about how viable this arrangement really was, but I pushed forward, believing that moving was the solution to my loneliness, restlessness, and lack of community. It was not.

We hadn't properly prepared for what life in a new country might bring, and we didn't achieve our goal of blending international families.

I realize now that our move was a misguided attempt to feel free and unburdened. Now, we're trying to repair the financial damage from it while figuring out what's next.

• When my husband and I moved to California, we decided to live on a sailboat.
• Repairs, maintenance, and docking fees have made the lifestyle more expensive than we expected.
• The tight quarters can be challenging, but the experience has been great for our marriage.

Last year, my husband, Michael, and I bought a sailboat to live on full-time.

At the time, we were preparing to move from our home near Louisville, Kentucky, to Santa Barbara, California, where I'd lived for a few years after college.

As excited as we were to move to a new state, we weren't prepared for the higher cost of rent, and paying $2,500 a month for a place we wouldn't even own was a hard pill to swallow for two Midwesterners.

We knew we couldn't afford to buy a house yet, but still wanted a something we could own outright. I figured there had to be an alternative option.

After some thought, I remembered I had previously met a number of people in Santa Barbara who lived aboard boats, and wondered if that would be feasible for us.

My husband and I had each been on a handful of sailing trips, and as lifelong outdoorspeople, exploring by ocean was appealing, even though we knew almost nothing about the logistics.

Once the idea was planted, we couldn't imagine doing anything else.

So far, the experience has been full of ups and downs

After deciding to take this leap, we saved up and consumed every book and YouTube channel about sailing. We even fastened a sailing cleat to the arm of an old chair, and we used that to practice our knots.

In September 2025, we bought a 1975 sailboat outright for $40,000 in San Francisco and sailed it down the coast the morning the papers were signed.

Our 43-foot boat is a beautiful work of craftsmanship, featuring a well-preserved wooden interior with two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen, and a desk. But unfortunately, the boat came with an overwhelming amount of work from the start.

The previous owner had left us quite a mess to clean up, leaving every drawer stuffed with old kitchenware and junk. Plus, it needed work, like replacing the rotting main sheet, updating the navigation systems, and cleaning out a mildewed freshwater tank — things we've slowly fixed one at a time.

The first night aboard the boat, we lay in bed and thought to ourselves, "What have we done?" We hung up a horseshoe — a lucky family heirloom that had watched over my dad's doorway for 20 years — hoping it still had some luck left to lend us.

Although we've loved living on a boat so far, we were surprised it wasn't more affordable than living on land. Our slip fee, about $1,500 a month, at the marina where we're usually docked, is cheaper than any studio apartment in the area, but we make up the difference in the maintenance that comes with owning a boat from 1975.

There's a saying among boat owners that BOAT stands for "Bust Out Another Thousand" — something we didn't learn until we lived aboard. Boat parts aren't cheap, and anything labeled "marine" comes with a hefty price tag.

Luckily, we've been able to save a lot of money by doing the labor ourselves — whether that's resealing the windows, installing solar, or replacing engine parts. Michael is a great engineer, mechanic, and all-around handy guy, and I'm fair with a wrench.

Despite the financial challenges of living on board, we've developed a routine that has made this place feel like home.

Most weekday mornings start with espresso from the machine we squeezed onto our limited counter space. We drink it in the cockpit while the rest of the marina is woken up by the loud roars of sea lions.

After work, we like to bike around town and sometimes host dinner parties that end with watching the sunset behind the hundreds of sailboat masts.

On the weekends, we've been able to use the boat to explore the California coast. We pack up on a Friday, sail out to a quiet anchor, and spend a few days hiking, swimming, and watching dolphins from the deck.

A year living aboard has tested us, but it's also brought us closer

After a year on the boat, we trust ourselves more and more as sailors, and the sweetest part has been watching us blossom as a team.

Even though it can be challenging sharing a space with someone who is never more than 10 feet from you, the greatest adventure has been navigating this new lifestyle and learning curve together.

Sure, we miss having a large floor space to stretch, a kitchen big enough for two, and a toilet that doesn't smell like rotten seawater.

Some days, our 43 feet feels larger than life, filled with possibilities and adventure, but other times it feels like we're living in a very expensive closet.

Even on those claustrophobic, leak-dodging, seaweed-scented days, neither one of us would trade it. Not yet, anyway. We've been able to explore the Channel Islands, witness incredible coastal wildlife, and learn the skills that come with living on the water: reading the weather, trimming sails, and surfing.

Eventually, we want children, and we can't picture raising them aboard. But for now, we're exactly where we want to be.

There's a narrow window in life when you can uproot everything for something this impractical, and we're standing right in the middle of it.