A few weeks ago, we had some friends over we hadn't seen in a while. While catching up, they asked my husband, Alejandro, how his new business was going.

Alejandro shuffled and shrugged and stared at the floor.

'Up and down, you know. Money come in, money goes out. Lots of problems,' he muttered. Our friends glanced at each other, avoided eye contact with us and uncomfortably changed the topic. I could tell they feared they had touched a raw nerve.

I spoke up.

'His company is going great!' I volunteered. 'Way better than his projections. He's doing a great job. This guy is amazing,' I said, pointing at my husband, who looked completely mortified and slipped away to fiddle with the music.

The whole evening I wanted to have a talking-to with Alejandro, and after they left I did.

'Why won't you tell our friends how your business is going? You gave them the impression it's awful when it's actually going really well,' I complained.

Turns out he was equally annoyed with the way I'd responded.

'It sounds like you're bragging. I don't want to go around telling people I'm some kind of big shot and I'm making all this money,' he said.

The topic of money is such a divisive theme in many marriages, I'm relieved that Alejandro and I have so much common ground. But this incident brought to my attention a little-discussed relationship wrinkle: The difference in how we talk about our financialstatus with the outside world. I realized that my husband and I have never come to an agreement about what we are comfortable revealing, or shielding, about our economic situation. Instead, we regularly annoy each other by following what we are sure is common sense.

One example of the tension arises during our annual trips to Uruguay, Alejandro's home country. When we get there, I refuse to sleep on friends' living-room floors or in cheap hotels as Alejandro wants to do. Instead, at my insistence, we've rented large apartments or comfortable houses at the beach. With Alejandro pushing back every step of the way, we have had many arguments. His complaint: 'People here will think we have more money than they do.'

I know tons of people who have more money than I do, and I like them anyway, I answer. It's always been hard for me to understand how this could be a problem.

On the flip side, I find it so frustrating when I hear Alejandro rattling off his business worries and liabilities to my dad, without sharing the upsides and triumphs. My dad, a former stockbroker, loves business and is so excited about Alejandro's trucking company. He goes with him to inspect the big rigs, quizzes the drivers about their lives and tabulates gas expenses. I fantasize that Alejandro will call up his father-in-law some day and share the news about a banner month. But let's be realistic: Alejandro could hardly imagine anything more embarrassing.

***

With the 'how's the business' question coming up so frequently, we decided to talk through our positions and create some ground rules.

In Uruguay, Alejandro explained, the highest praise you can give a person is to say they 'have a low profile.' Rich people, Alejandro says, are assumed to have cheated someone on the path to wealth and are often viewed with suspicion. Thus, Uruguayans will often go out of their way to assure you they are flat broke and everything is going terribly. I've often marveled at how in Uruguay, whenever someone lets slip something positive about their lives, the words 'por suerte,' meaning 'by luck,' immediately follow.

Things could hardly be more different in the U.S., I told Alejandro, as I defined the term 'poor-mouthing' and how harshly it is looked down upon in this culture. Success is such a deeply ingrained expectation in this society that we loathe burdening our family or friends with admissions of hardship. When I indicate to family and friends that we're doing well and all is calm on the financial front, I don't feel I'm bragging but rather putting them at ease.

We both conceded that talking about money is generally in bad taste and to be avoided when possible. Alejandro agreed that when discussing his company with our closest friends and family, he will be more transparent and upbeat when the news warrants it. Around Uruguayans, I've agreed to be more respectful of the 'low profile' gold standard: I'll stay in a cheap hotel or two in Uruguay and make sure I'm not painting our lives too rosy.

And if someone asks us how things are going overall, I'm going to try to be mindful to downplay a bit and Alejandro to up-play a bit. It's a happy medium. Por suerte.