She ain't nothin' but a Gold Digger...

When I was 16, I convinced myself that all I wanted was a super hot rich husband, a big house, an unlimited monthly clothing allowance, and a fancy car. At 19, I decided that "love was all that mattered." I was desperately in love with my boyfriend, and would have been happy anywhere with him; including living in a cardboard box on the street... in theory of course. Now, at 25, it feels like the continuum has come full circle, and I find myself at a crossroad of the two extremes. Love isn't enough. It's enough for the immediate, passionate affair of the heart, but after the sweat from your forehead has dried, there has to be something else holding it together.

Lauren and I were talking the other day, and both started to whine, "where are the rich older men who want to take care of us?"

Seriously... where are they?

I am officially old enough to accept the fact that I'm not going to marry a super rich guy, who is also stunningly gorgeous, AND has an amazing personality... I'm not going to marry that guy, because "that guy" doesn't actually exist. And if he does, he's gay. Rich, stunning, intelligent, amazing guys are never straight.

Soooo... this really throws a wrench into my ultimate plan. The easiest qualification to throw out right off the bat, would obviously be "stunningly gorgeous." The 16-year-old version of me, would never of even fathomed letting a guy pushing 70 touch her. But the 25-year-old me is sitting at her laptop asking, how much money can I get for said "touching?"

Apparently the older version of myself is a money-grubbing hoe-bag...

But I digress...

I don't think I could ever actually be a "gold digger." While I would LOVE to have absolutely no responsibilities other than looking pretty, and shopping, I know that would get real old, real quick. Tragically, the motivation to accomplish things that are at least marginally meaningful, overpower all delusions of future trophy wife status.

DAMN YOU MORAL COMPASS!

I've been thinking a lot about whores lately, and have come to the realization that, ALL of us are participating in varying degrees of prostitution. Some girls date guys they're not that in to, simply because they buy them lots of presents, or make them feel "special." Some guys date girls they're not particularly excited about, simply because it's a warm body to lay next to and put their penis in. In return, these less than stellar examples of compassionate beings, give their 2nd choice lovers, their bodies, and a fake version of intimacy. All parties involved are using these temporary partners, to get something they want. In essence, selling themselves for physical and emotional compensation.

I've stayed in relationships longer than I should have, because the person I was with would dote on me, and make me feel like a better version of the girl I actually was. Knowing that I was no longer in love with them didn't see to matter to me. I was getting the attention that I wanted, and in return, I would give them my body, and a fake version of my love that they so desperatly wanted.

Sometimes I wonder how many of my friends are prostituting themselves in their relationships? I wonder who is faking the love, and who is giving up their body in return for "attention." I wonder how many of my friends are really "in love," or even know what that means.

Not to be completely cynical, but I can't help but believe on some level, that "whores" are the last honest relationship there is. I mean it's pretty straight forward; you give them money, they give you an orgasm, and a momentary connection to another human that fades as soon as the seamen dries on the inseam of your pants.

At least whores are up front about what they're doing, and why they're doing it. The rest of us however, we're sneaky sluts. Hiding behind these forced "relationships," just so we don't have to be alone. Inside our heads, we develop a "love point" tally, that keeps track of how much you give verses how much get. The points add up, and in the end we deem our failed relationships as having been "worth it," or "worthless." It always comes down to the scorecard...

But there will be a day, when you fall in love again... for the first time, or the fifth time, and all of this will sound like nonsense. You'll dream about their kisses, and convince yourself that it will be different this time... And maybe it will... For you, I hope it will.

The tally will always come back though, and you'll begin to ponder, yet again...

How much is your love worth?

 love you mean it.