Almost a year ago now, I was on an online dating escapade through Los Angeles. Really, it's what started this whole blogging thing I do from time to time. My experiences were wretched and I began routinely informing my mother that she was not going to have grandchildren.
"I hope you're okay with that mom, 'cause it just ain't gonna happen. These men are all assholes."
My understanding and forthright mother lovingly replied, "that's fine, you do whatever you need to do."
I was stuck with the awkward combination, Iraq and "a hard place", you might say if you like Hot Shots Part Deux references. Being a transplant in LA, with no friends to get a footing on new relationships, an intense desire for all this dating bullshit to just be over, and father dreaming that I'd do what he didn't and just marry wealthy. It was ugly.
I learned two things:
1. There is such a thing as too much sex
2. I hate rich men
I certainly selected my online dates by money. Online was a place in which I could ascertain one's financial power immediately. I didn't have to poke around about it and ferret it out, it was right there in front of me. It was a really shitty filter.
One of these men drove a Maserati and took me to a Kings game and sat me down in the second row. It was horribly boring. I left thinking, "I tried dating an exceedingly rich man in my age range. Conclusion: they think their wealth makes up for not having a personality. Thumbs down."
I went on to go on many more dates with income being a factor in my initial contact with all of them. I soon came to realize that this wealth, combined with being under age 35, guaranteed three things:
1. They would have sex with me
2. They wouldn't have a personality
3. They would never speak to me again
Poppycock, this was. (Actually, my sentiment was more like "waaaaaaaah I hate myself, what is wrong with me, I am a horrible person, I am a useless human being.)
As with most upsetting things that aren't of massive implications to one's life, time made this clearer and funnier. Helping this along was a conversation I had with a highly ranking member of the legal community in Los Angeles (read: old while guy).
"One of my daughters married wealthy...and the other just won't." He touted in our meeting.
"Oh my...only let your daughter get married if she's going to marry someone wealthy!"
My "I'm a work" filter immediately clicked off. I was pissed off by this great deal of ignorance. Clearly, the young rich men of today are not the young rich men of yore (no shit, right?).
"You know, I spent a great deal of time trying to date rich men. They aren't all that interested in getting hitched is the problem."
I received no response but a, "oh you're silly" type chuckle. This happens a lot. I'm like Lisa Simpson.
Though my anger was quelled, because I realized I'd answered my own longstanding conundrum:
The rich young men of today are dicks because their trophies are different. Their trophies are not a beautiful wife and family or a stable career - it's partying the fuck out of Orange County or whatever rich suburb and doing jaeger bombs and fucking girls from CSUN.
They'd be fine upstanding young citizens if you were simply a friend of theirs, but as a woman, they're your enemy.
I since conjured up a real gem of a boyfriend whom I met in a bar. We live together now. It's wonderful. We have a modest income. We drink Stolichnaya vodka, but we're not quite Grey Goose people. For fun, we go to pawn shops and fantasize about socialism.