The Search for Moneybags; When Golddigging is essential

I have decided to shun my 15k word dissertation for some therapeutic cleansing, basically i am going to present my argument for gold digging and will welcome rebuttals or otherwise. For years we have been taught that gold digging is bad, marrying for money is a vice and should be frowned upon. Now i'm going to sell the other side to you the case of the proverbial gold digger....



She defines the word beautiful, oozes confidence and sex appeal like larva from an angry volcano, she smiles like she knows your secrets and she makes you feel like Poseidon in the midst of a tsunami. The only thing is you're 75, bald, missing a couple of teeth, own 50% stock of the Viagra brand and sometimes can't remember her name and still she wants you. What could it be about you that she seems to love so much, everyone else says its your multi billion bank balance, but no it couldn't be. She sees into your soul where echoes of the man you once were lies, she is the only one who still can or heck maybe she makes all those Viagra and hormone pills worth it. Who cares about the bank balance right?

He is disgusting! Coughs all the time and has skin like rumpled paper, his breath reeks of garlic pills and when he smiles you just want to pass out. He keeps talking about the war and you're not sure if its the one in Iraq or the one at Waterloo. He wants to do it all the time and it takes too long for the friggin Viagra to kick in and each time you pray that he doesnt slump on top of you for good before its time for the wedding. You hate it but you lie there and grit your teeth and think of that Birkin, or the holiday in St. Tropez or how your name would look carved above the words CEO, Moneybags Ltd, and then you smile and even manage to scream his name. At the end of the day we're all making sacrifices.

That's the Goldie and Moneybags we know and we hate it, she's disgusting, taking advantage of a poor old man because of his money. Gold digging has taken on a different shape today and everyone has a shovel, we're all just digging for different things.

I had a shovel too, though i must admit it didn't dig too deep, i wanted a man who fears God, not too shabby in the looks dept, loves me and blah blah blah. My shovel turned up quite a few but the truth is i found that sometimes the layers of dirt usually fell off and sometimes i ended up with something a few metres south of what i was looking for, with all those layers somehow i had missed it.

I guess when you turn 25 and have no man, boyfriend, fiance, husband, benefactor or otherwise the 'gurus' descend with words of wisdom: 'lower ur standards, Mcdreamy lives in Shonda Rhimes head in Seattle.' Maybe i should listen, they might have a point but i just love to be a non-conformist so guess what i do, i up my standards. Now dude has to be rich, yes i said it, dial 911! Before you crucify me and label me Anna Nicky Smith let me reach the end of my argument and i will do so by telling you a little story;

Irene was married before, she was young, rebellious and in love, so she dropped out of school and married the man of the moment, had 2 kids. The marriage fails and she finds herself alone, overweight, a single mother of 2 living with her parents. Then she gets a job, its not much but it comes with a self contained apartment. She moves, leaves the kids with her parents and then she meets Peter, within a couple months Peter practically lives with her and by the next year they're married. Business is good, she gets a better job, can afford to move to a 3 bed flat with the kids, she has another kid. Life keeps getting better. Peter doesn't have a 9-5, he's a 'businessman' He goes on long business trips and makes 'phantom futuristic money' They're living on Irene's money, its enough to get a nice SUV for the family in addition to the Honda they had, but suddenly Peter wants his own SUV for his 'business trips' So 'they' get him one and then 'they' buy a plot of land and start to build their dream home. Somehow along the line Irene loses her job, with 3 kids in school and bills coming in, things start to take their toll, Irene needs to start her own business so she decides they should mortgage their house, but oh wait Peter remembers he's sold their house for a fraction of the price they have invested in it a couple of months back and forgot to tell her and oh they have been living on the proceeds since then.


Moral of the story? Marry a rich man or at least be the Peter cos it'd suck to be Irene. At least that's what i took from it. You? So did i convince you yet? Are you about to send off a subscription for Forbes magazine?

The honest truth is that i do want to marry a rich man and when i say rich i do not necessarily mean Sultan of Brunei (though that wouldn't be half bad) I want a man that's rich in his pocket and rich in his heart because honestly one without the other is pointless in my opinion. There was a time i thought i could marry a guy who didn't have a house or a job and that i'd take care of us both and love would magically make everything okay, but those days are long gone. So i tell everyone who has one brother or friend or colleague that would be perfect for me to add 'rich' to that list and anyone who isn't fine with that can like to wear Speedo and dive into an Olympic size swimming pool.

I am strolling into my metaphorical market and picking up myself the biggest shovel they have there and i'm going digging because out there someone might be digging for a smart, pretty, successful, God-fearing woman and in the wise words of Dbanj his pocket had better be ENDOWED.