We-went-from-being-a-2-car-household-to-just-sharing.jpeg

We went from being a 2-car household to just sharing one. So far, the benefits have outweighed the inconvenience.

One week into 2026, I totaled the first car I ever owned: my beloved 14-year-old Nissan Altima.

The logical next step would’ve been to start car shopping, but between planning a wedding, saving up for a house, and navigating a career shift, 2026 was already shaping up to be expensive. Taking on a new car payment felt like working in direct opposition of my money-saving goals.

So, my fiancé and I decided to share his car. Two months into our new arrangement, I can say it’s been challenging but more worthwhile than I expected.

I worried that sharing a car would mean sacrificing independence


Abby Lane partner (left) and Abby Lane at NFL game

Now that we share a car, we have to communicate about our plans more than we used to. 

Abby Lane



I live in an area that isn’t particularly walkable, and public transportation isn’t a reliable option. So before I got into the accident, my fiancé and I were fortunate enough to operate as a two-car household.

Having our own cars gave us freedom, spontaneity, and independence — three things I value in a relationship.

When we decided to share a car, I worried I’d feel stuck at home if my partner had plans without me (and vice versa). What if we needed the car at the same time? Would having to coordinate every errand create tension? Would one of us quietly start to resent the other?

In the immediate aftermath of the accident, I was still commuting an hour round-trip for work. My fiancé works remotely, so the car defaulted to me most of the week.

Now, we both work from home, so things are less straightforward. No one has a claim over the car during business hours. Although that ambiguity can be frustrating, it’s helped us be more mindful of each other’s time and priorities and highlighted the ways we put one another first.

The financial gains are worth the trade-offs

The biggest benefit of sharing a car is the money we’re saving. By not replacing my car, I avoided another monthly payment. Even leasing or financing a used vehicle could’ve easily led to me spending a few hundred dollars a month. I’m also sidestepping maintenance, registration fees, and inevitable repairs.

We do occasionally spend money on rideshares, but those expenses are minimal compared to what it would cost to own and maintain a second car.

Every month without an additional car payment is money we can put toward our wedding and down payment funds. It’s given us a bit of breathing room.

That’s not to say it hasn’t been challenging. Sharing one car means we have to coordinate almost everything, from grocery runs to social plans. It requires more check-ins than we’re used to, but using a joint calendar and discussing plans further in advance has helped.

Sharing a car has taught us to work together in new ways


Abby Lane and her partner in their car - selfie

Two months into the arrangement, we’re not in a rush to get another car. 

Abby Lane



The last thing I expected was for my accident — and our subsequent decision to share a car — to strengthen my relationship.

It’s forced us to be intentional as we plan together, communicate openly, and navigate the occasional bump in the road. We’re working as a team instead of living in our own little bubbles.

My fiancé has been incredibly generous and flexible throughout this transition. Watching him share without hesitation, and adjusting my own expectations in return, has made me pause and recognize how we show up for each other.

I don’t expect we’ll share a car forever, but I’m not in a rush to get my own. When I do start shopping, I want to choose one I’ll keep for years, not just a quick replacement for the one I lost.

However, I don’t anticipate making that purchase until after we’ve had our wedding and bought a home.

For now, we’re happy to trade a little comfort for space to save, plan, and focus on our shared goals. I’ve realized that true freedom and independence don’t come from a single item, like a car, but from what we’re building together in the long term.




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Naydeline Mejia

My move from the US to Paris has come with a lot of benefits, but finding love has felt impossible

When I visited Paris for the first time in 2022 during my inaugural solo trip, I fell in love with the city instantly.

Sipping my chocolat chaud while reading Hemingway’s “A Moveable Feast” at the legendary Café de Flore, enveloped in the charming Haussmannian architecture the city is renowned for, I whispered to myself: “I could live here.”

It wasn’t until two years later that I would finally make the move abroad after being accepted into a graduate school program and subsequently quitting my dream job at a big-time magazine to fulfill my newest dream of living in Paris.

Although moving to France from the US has come with plenty of benefits, such as a slower pace of living and a healthier work-life balance, one part of my journey has significantly suffered: my love life.

For a city that markets itself as the City of Love, I have found building a meaningful connection with someone in Paris nearly impossible.

The language barrier has made it difficult to connect with potential partners deeply


Woman reading book outside at cafe in PAris

I can speak French, but I still feel a language barrier on dates.

Naydeline Mejia



As someone with an intermediate level of French, I knew when entering the Parisian dating scene that language would be a hurdle, especially when going on dates with non-native English speakers.

During dates with people who didn’t feel comfortable speaking English or didn’t speak the language very well, we’d mostly converse in French — I found banter to be difficult and less fluid.

My personality also took a hit. Instead of my usual, flirty self, I felt more reserved because I couldn’t express myself fully in my third language.

Even during dates where the other person did have a good command of English, I felt as though we lacked a certain access to one another as we weren’t able to express ourselves in our mother tongues.

As a result, I convinced myself our connection would never reach deeper than center ground.

I’ve had some great dates, but intimacy doesn’t always translate into romance


Woman smiling in PAris under umbrella

For me, romance has been hard to find in Paris.

Naydeline Mejia



Another barrier to finding love while dating in Paris has been the differing dating customs.

In my experience, it’s not uncommon for French partners to want to go on regular romantic dates and engage in public displays of affection, like holding hands, even if we’re only seeing each other casually.

As someone who is used to clearly defined relationship boundaries and labels, like “friends with benefits” and “exclusive,” while dating in the US, I find it a bit disorienting to receive forms of intimacy usually reserved for a serious relationship from a non-romantic partner.

I have also observed that the “what are we?” conversation is not really common in France. After a few successful dates, it’s often assumed that you and your dating partner are exclusive. In comparison, in the US, a conversation around exclusivity usually precedes becoming “official” with someone.

The lack of a clear conversation around labels has often left me feeling confused about where I stand with potential partners or the relationship feeling unbalanced.

I have considered moving back to the US for a better chance at love


Woman walking next to building in Paris

I’m not sure if I’ll find love in Paris.

Naydeline Mejia



While I can’t say my dating experience was that much better when I was living in the US, I do consider moving back home to New York to increase my chances of finding a meaningful partnership.

In my experience, there are many benefits to dating in your native country — from speaking the same language to upholding similar dating rules and customs, and, oftentimes, having shared experiences that can only be witnessed by someone from your hometown.

At the same time, some of the most beautiful love stories defy cultural and language barriers. I would be remiss not to try to work past the difficult parts of dating abroad in my search for a partner who makes my heart flutter long past the honeymoon stage.

Nevertheless, while concurrently navigating a seemingly never-ending dating pool, I have also been enjoying my alone time in this fairy-tale city.

In her essay, “Why Are All the Lonely Girls Going to Paris?,” writer Jenna Ryu argues that perhaps inhabiting this so-called City of Love is not about finding a storybook romance, but celebrating the beauty of solitude, especially as a young, single woman.

I have never felt more sure of myself and in love with life than during these past two years living in Paris. The love I would often reserve for a romantic partner, I have been pouring onto myself — and that has made all the difference.




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Emily Stewart

Your boss is about to pull back your gym benefits

Much like office snacks and flashy holiday parties, corporate wellness programs have always struck me as a bit of a scam — nice to have, but not at the expense of my job, salary, or a decent healthcare plan. Maybe that makes me a cynic, but in the zero-sum world of corporate budgets, if it comes down to layoffs vs. avocados, I’m fine skipping the avocados. Unfortunately (or fortunately), I’m not the one making those decisions.

Workplace wellness programs have exploded over the past decade or so, with companies rolling out a suite of subsidized perks, such as gym discounts, mental health apps, and other benefits aimed at attracting and retaining workers. The pandemic upped the ante even more — in the face of a tight labor market and a hyper-stressed workforce, plenty of business leaders looked around and thought, “Well, a Zoom meditation session can’t hurt, right?”

Now, the ground is shifting. Corporations aren’t cutting their wellness programs altogether, but they are taking a hard look at what they’re paying for. They’re cutting excessive, underutilized benefits, scrutinizing ROI, and shifting to more cost-effective, targeted products. They’re trying to support employee well-being amid economic uncertainty and rising healthcare costs — without breaking the company piggybank.

Your job still wants to help you out with the gym, but it would rather you hit up Planet Fitness than Equinox. And, if it figures you’ve given up on your New Year’s resolution to exercise already, it doesn’t want to waste money on a benefit you’ll never use.


In the 2010s, the millennial-driven flurry of “work-life balance” chatter nudged companies to invest more in the life end of things. A low-interest-rate environment made such spending easy to justify. Perhaps a smaller player couldn’t compete with the tech giants’ lavish perks, but many of them did pour money into products and services they hoped might support employee health and morale, to varying degrees of success.

“I don’t know that anybody’s told me that it’s paid off. I mean, I don’t hear companies saying, ‘Our well-being program has been our secret to success,” says Josh Bersin, global industry analyst and CEO of The Josh Bersin Company, a consultancy. “So it does not surprise me that this got really overbuilt and overhyped.”

Returns are hard to track, employee uptake is limited, and costs often balloon.

Now that companies are tightening their belts again, many of these ancillary perks are on the chopping block. Wellness is a fairly straightforward place to make spending reductions, as it falls in the optional category. Returns are hard to track, employee uptake is limited, and costs often balloon.

Data Ramp Capital shows companies using its expense management platform have reduced wellness benefits for employees to $1,103 a year per worker in 2025 from $1,366 in 2023, a 20% decline. In turn, employees have upped their usage of budget-friendly apps such as Classpass and Wellhub and shifted toward lower-cost gyms.

“Benefits are being cut, and then as those benefits are being cut, people are spending at cheaper places on average,” says Ara Kharazian, an economist at Ramp.

The cuts to these side benefits come as the cost of companies’ major healthcare expenditure — the insurance they provide for their employees — continues to rise. Annual family premiums for employer insurance coverage increased by 6% to nearly $27,000 in 2025, per the Kaiser Family Foundation, and are expected to hit $30,000 this year. Employers say that controlling healthcare costs is their primary benefits objective, according to a recent MetLife survey, outweighing productivity, loyalty, and attracting talent.

“What they’re doing in light of really large increases is they are going through every benefit,” says Todd Katz, head of US group benefits at MetLife.

Cesar Carvalho, the CEO of Wellhub, which gives employees access to a network of gyms, studios, and classes, says one of the main appeals of his business is its price point, especially in this environment. “The value proposition of the company is very simple, they pay $2-$5 per employee per month, and that’s it,” he says.


If I had to make a bet, I would guess that you, the reader, do not fully understand the various wellness-related perks your job offers. That’s OK! Neither do I! Companies have been spending a lot of money on corporate wellness — by one estimate, nearly $95 billion worldwide this year — without always checking whether it’s effective.

One 2023 Deloitte survey found that 68% of workers don’t use the full value of their company’s well-being resources because the programs are too “time-consuming, confusing, or cumbersome” to access. A separate 2025 survey from Sapients Insights Group, a research and advisory firm, found that under a third of workers access their company’s digital wellness platform monthly. Much of this stuff hasn’t proven very impactful anyway: A 2024 study out of Oxford University in the UK found that employer offerings such as well-being apps, relaxation classes, and financial coaching generally didn’t make workers better off. The exception: providing opportunities to volunteer. (Resilience and stress management training actually had a negative impact.)

The way to build a healthy workplace culture is for the workplace to be holistically healthy

Zachary Chertok, a senior research manager for employee experience at IDC, a market-intelligence firm, tells me that spending on physical and mental well-being is growing more strategic. Decisions around these products and services have historically been “top down and driven by internal company initiatives,” he says. Essentially, someone in the C-suite or in HR decides there’s going to be a wellness push, picks out whatever app(s) to implement it, and everyone moves on. Now, companies are getting smarter at identifying and spending on what’s actually being used rather than what isn’t. What this looks like in practice is businesses enlisting vendors that offer a potential suite of services or a central hub to manage a set of offerings, rather than contracting with a bunch of ad hoc programs. The model lets them choose which options they do and don’t want to include and, over time, decipher what employees are using to refine the offer.

“As wellness spend matures, companies are thinking more about individual use and engagement cases and how spend can be mapped to it,” Chertok says. New platforms that collect data on what people are using and what they aren’t, he adds, helps “connect the dots on what is actually having an impact and working.”

Essentially, if my work wellness platform realizes I’m never going to download the mental health app, it will stop bugging me about it, and if enough people do the same, it will alert my employer to drop the benefit.


Employers don’t do all of this extra investing out of the kindness of their hearts. They do it because they think healthier employees will reduce their healthcare costs, take fewer sick days, and be more productive. That, in turn, saves the company money on their end of the insurance bill. From the employee perspective, it results in an awkward arrangement. For people who use the perks, the benefits are a plus, but workers can also feel like their bosses are simply trying to slap a band-aid-sized app onto a much larger problem of stress, burnout, and overwork.

A mindfulness workshop scheduled in the middle of the workday doesn’t help an employee who’s so overwhelmed they don’t have 20 minutes for lunch. It also fosters animosity, as they wonder exactly who among the ranks actually has time for that. The way to build a healthy workplace culture is for the workplace to be holistically healthy: a financial health app doesn’t do much if you’re severely underpaid, a gym membership is useless if you’re working 11-hour day, a video about stress management doesn’t help you figure out how you’re going to manage your new, sky-high insurance premiums.

“I think most people would rather have it go into their medical benefits because that’s the big cost,” Bersin says.

Business Insider is giving us ClassPass this year, and I am excited to use it — assuming I don’t forget, which, TBD. We lost the reimbursement fitness benefit that came with our health insurance last year, which was more financially advantageous. I remind myself this benefit is an extra, not a requirement, and I hope my bosses know I’m OK if they cut it. I can learn to run outside.


Emily Stewart is a senior correspondent at Business Insider, writing about business and the economy.

Business Insider’s Discourse stories provide perspectives on the day’s most pressing issues, informed by analysis, reporting, and expertise.




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