By Joan E Thurman
2019-09-01. I've known women so in love with the idea of love--so desperate for a man's compliment, or a door opened for them; so famished for a kind word and affectionate smile, for the slightest act of chivalry--that they close their eyes to Prince Charming's obvious extreme poverty, and believe every imaginative story he tells to cover up the fact.
Not me, some of you say. I said that once too, and I am still paying for the love we shared--in monthly installments.
Take the advice of a friend who wants only the best for her sisters, namely a rich husband who can fulfill your every desire in reality. It is worth hiring a private investigator immediately if your dream-man exhibits any of these eccentricities:
He's using a piece of rope as a belt, and has been ever since you've known him. This is not merely a piece of rope. It is a constant reminder of his debt to the Almighty for quitting the seminary just as he was about to take vows. He'd thought of nothing but faithful service to the church until he met the most exciting woman in all creation--you--and vowed God would have to wait.
Every homeless person lying on the street, huddled in a doorway, or begging on the corner greets him warmly, and by name. He knows and loves them all from his days as an independent philanthropist. He would take long walks passing out hundred-bills to people he deemed in need, and came to know the downtrodden and oppressed quite well.
Every homeless person lying on the street, huddled in a doorway, or begging on the corner greets him warmly, and by name. He knows and loves them all from his days as an independent philanthropist. He would take long walks passing out hundred-bills to people he deemed in need, and came to know the downtrodden and oppressed quite well.
His Jaguar sports-car has been in the shop ever since you met him. And that's where it will stay, until the only Jaguar mechanic worthy of his respect--and his high fees, worth every penny--returns from Africa, where he is donating a year of his life to repairing the cars of Darfur victims, so they can carpool to join in the war against terror. It is a long way from Darfur to Damascus.
He shows up at your door wearing an old pastel leisure suit that your dad gave to the Salvation Army. He knew there was something special about that suit--something that reminded him of you, he could feel the vibrations--and that's why he donated $100 to the Salvation Army for letting him take it.
He does all of his banking at the payday loan store. He closed all his brokerage and bank accounts after the sub-prime mortgage scandal convinced him that no banker or broker could ever be trusted with his money again.
He gets some of his best ideas when he's digging through a dumpster, and loves it when you help. "The things thrown away by thoughtless people help me develop new ideas for product improvements," he declares, holding up a bent cork-screw. He has already patented over 100 such redesigned items, and donates the proceeds to worthy causes.
He is hopping mad because somebody stole the American Express Platinum Card out of his trousers when he was playing racket-ball at the Midtown Athletic Club. And they had the nerve to replace it with something called an EBT card, which our waiter says they don't accept here at the Russian Tea Room. The nerve! You'll have to help him out until he gets to the bottom of this. A thief at his private club! What is the world coming to?
He has given up wearing socks and undergarments to help save the planet. Humankind is raping the planet--robbing it of cotton, wool, and other natural resources. And the pollution from the detergents, the wasted water. He'd rather go without. At least he can sleep at night.
He never suggests that the two of you go back to his place for a night-cap. When you whisper that you long for him, of course he feels the same way. Love in the park on a moonlit night is so romantic. Raining or snowing? He knows a cozy little nook under the freeway overpass, where two love birds can coo and bill and watch the busy world below hurry by--as you keep each other warm and dream of the places you'll go together.
As enjoyable and inventive as such men can be, you'll be better off in the long run to break the habit quickly--unless your private investigator comes back with news that he is only pretending to be poor--a billionaire searching for a woman who will not just love him for the money.
In that case, you may disregard my advice, and join with real gusto in his game of make-believe poverty. However, I would draw the line at dining and then making love in the same dumpster. You'll hate yourself in the morning.
