Friday, March 5, 2010
Common sense.
It's deeply unfashionable to admit to wanting to marry into money, of course. It's the implication of calculated greed that people don't like. But all women will weigh up a prospective partner's wealth if they're really honest. Which would you rather, the date who takes you somewhere fancy for dinner and picks up the tab, or the geezer who takes you down the pub and tells you it's your round? I mean, come on. It'a a no-brainer. Some psychologists will even tell you that women are biologically programmed to look for a man with money. Not all women are chasing billionaires, but unconsciously all women look for a mate who is strong, reliable and able to support their children. Ultimately it's got nothing to do with love and everything to do with a biological urge: find a man who can provide for you and your nippers.
-Lucy Broadbent from What's Love Got To Do With It?
Well, I for one, agree to that. To a certain extent, of course. I definitely want a man who's able to take care of me financially. I want to know that I don't have to worry about the fees when I send my kids to music classes and ice skating lessons and tuitions. I want to know that I can afford a car to drive my kids every where and myself to work. I want to know that I can give birth to as many kids as I'm blessed with or maybe even adopt some because I have the money to raise them. I want to know that I'm able to hire a day housekeeper to keep the house clean twice a week.
On the other hand, I'd LOVE to have someone to love who loves me back with all their hearts. I love to have romantic evenings together and experience the tingling sensation when we touch and the joyous swell in my heart every morning I wake up with him next to me or when he comes home from work. I'd love to know that even with money, my kids are not spoilt brats. I'd love to know that I have love and am in love even with tonnes of money.
Some say love conquers all. But I have difficulty believing that I can survive with love and a 3-digit in my back account. Trying to pay off bills, working my ass off, getting pissed with each other when money matters come up.
Hmm.. I wonder how many digits there would be in my future husband's bank account. That's only if I find a husband. My soul mate could have probably died and I'm gonna grow old a spinster. Such an ugly word.
In my own world,
3:10 AM
