Dating : You’re Interesting. I’ll Take That Over Young and Pretty Any Day.

This morning I wrote a Medium piece about online profiles by men (50s, 60s +) who dictate that their partners had to be pretty, athletic, fit, and classy dressers.

Oh, and sort of, kind of, down the line a bit, maybe it would be nice if they had a couple of brain cells.

Oh, and by the way, a little integrity might be nice.

But by god she HAS TO BE PRETTY. Slim, athletic, shapely. Classy. (Read: she has to shore up my aging dick).

The other day, a friend recounted a series of exchanges that went viral about five years ago. Let me share, in case you missed it. Here’s what a pretty girl of 25 wrote:

Title: What should I do to marry a rich guy?

I’m going to be honest of what I’m going to say here. I’m 25 this year. I’m very pretty, have style and good taste. I wish to marry a guy with $500k annual salary or above. You might say that I’m greedy, but an annual salary of $1M is considered only as middle class in New York.

My requirement is not high. Is there anyone in this forum who has an income of $500k annual salary? Are you all married? I wanted to ask: what should I do to marry rich persons like you?

Among those I’ve dated, the richest is $250k annual income, and it seems that this is my upper limit.

If someone is going to move into high cost residential area on the west of New York City Garden(?), $250k annual income is not enough.

I’m here humbly to ask a few questions:

1) Where do most rich bachelors hang out? (Please list down the names and addresses of bars, restaurant, gym)

2) Which age group should I target?

3) Why most wives of the riches are only average-looking? I’ve met a few girls who don’t have looks and are not interesting, but they are able to marry rich guys

4) How do you decide who can be your wife, and who can only be your girlfriend? (my target now is to get married)

Ms. Pretty

Sharp intake of breath, on the part of every single smart woman and smart man I know.

Christ.

To this breathtaking gold digger, the response came from (purportedly, but not proven) the head of JP Morgan:

Dear Ms. Pretty,
I have read your post with great interest. Guess there are lots of girls out there who have similar questions like yours. Please allow me to analyse your situation as a professional investor.
My annual income is more than $500k, which meets your requirement, so I hope everyone believes that I’m not wasting time here.
From the standpoint of a business person, it is a bad decision to marry you. The answer is very simple, so let me explain.

Put the details aside, what you’re trying to do is an exchange of “beauty” and “money” : Person A provides beauty, and Person B pays for it, fair and square.
However, there’s a deadly problem here, your beauty will fade, but my money will not be gone without any good reason. The fact is, my income might increase from year to year, but you can’t be prettier year after year.

Hence from the viewpoint of economics, I am an appreciation asset, and you are a depreciation asset. It’s not just normal depreciation, but exponential depreciation. If that is your only asset, your value will be much worse 10 years later.

By the terms we use in Wall Street, every trading has a position, dating with you is also a “trading position”.
If the trade value dropped we will sell it and it is not a good idea to keep it for long term — same goes with the marriage that you wanted. It might be cruel to say this, but in order to make a wiser decision any assets with great depreciation value will be sold or “leased”.

Anyone with over $500k annual income is not a fool; we would only date you, but will not marry you. I would advice that you forget looking for any clues to marry a rich guy. And by the way, you could make yourself to become a rich person with $500k annual income.This has better chance than finding a rich fool.

Hope this reply helps.

Signed,
J.P. Morgan CEO

Let’s be clear. I don’t think that JP Morgan’s CEO really wrote this (grammar, sentence structure, syntax etc. aside, still) but the point remains. Someone made an excellent point.

Here’s the piece:

It’s not about the money.

It’s not about the perfect, pert tits. The smooth thighs.

It’s not about the unwrinkled face, which has the lifespan of as a mayfly.

It’s about quality of character. As we age, certain aspects of us have to wither. They have to. No amount of money or surgery or pricey face creams or any other voodoo fix is going to get what we had in our twenties back. This is just as true for a rich CEO who is going to get old and wither and die. This is true of the loveliest woman on earth. Period.

If Ms. Pretty is vapid, she will always be vapid. Then she will end up old and vapid.

As I wrote in my other article, a handsome (rich) asshole is still an asshole. A pretty bitch is still a bitch.

Men who seek such women- especially those whose ED and FOA (fear of aging) drives them to distraction, will also end up old and vapid. I see them online all the time.

I demand pretty. I want thin, athletic, gorgeous. I want a bauble.

No better than Ms. Pretty.

My buddy Ann Litts sent me a perfectly lovely vignette. After I read it I warned her that after I had my riding lesson I would pilfer it. She’s down with that.

Here’s her story:

Years ago — a young scrub tech & I were setting up for a case in the OR. My younger and much prettier/nicer/more petite colleague came in to give a hand briefly then moved on to other things. The young anesthesia resident in the room commented on her looks and All. The. Things. that were right with her but wrong with older women. Without meaning to — a Deep Sigh slipped out of me at his complete shallowness and My Invisibility to him. I might even had said something to the effect of — “Hello — standing right here — I can hear you.”

My Beloved Scrub Tech turned to me and said — “Well, she might be younger — but you are WAY more interesting. And I will take interesting over THAT any day of the week.” He was sincere. Since that day — I have leaned into My Interesting — because THAT is what makes ME Unique.

Not that I’m wishing it the ex-BF or anything…but ED is a real thing for men when they enter their 50’s & Karma is a real bitch. Men who put all their self worth into their penis — well — they just don’t take that whole aging thing well at all. Just sayin’.

My thanks as always to Ann.

Certain men my age or older fire nasty darts at me on online profiles because I like younger men. I always have. I’m an outlier, always will be. This is the main reason why. It’s not their upright penises. Not their endurance. I”m not ins search of the Energizer Bunny. How childish. I don’t care about money either. I am doing just fine. Been an entrepreneur most of my life.

Get. Over. It. Guys.

I appreciate men who aren’t threatened by what I do- adventure travel, lots of it, solo. I cannot take someone with me where I go- they get in the way when I need to chase a story, do an interview, take a risk. That’s not meant to be an insult. This is my work. I cannot babysit. I cannot spend time training someone how to pitch a tent or ride a horse. I am gone a lot. That means that if I find someone, he can’t need a dingleberry, an extension of himself.

I’ve not met a single guy who shares even a few of my interests. Not at my age. The men who ride horses around here are either cowboys (and Trump supporters) or they are looking for (slim, pretty, must be YOUNG). Arm candy. Shore up the sagging unit, as it were.

So yes, I regularly get inquiries from men in their twenties and thirties. Over the last couple of days, four or five of them. Because I’m fucking interesting. I do interesting things, I write, study, read, push myself. Grow, evolve, challenge. For life. They like that.

Because they keep running into Ms. Pretty, who wants a rich husband, who expects to be kept the way her daddy told her she’s entitled to. The stories I could tell from the male friends of mine who have given up on Match. I can hardly blame them.

Nor can they blame me, given my experiences.

Ann’s right. She’s a nurse. She sees it. ED is a thing. My last BF just hit fifty this year. I would imagine, given his sugar-fueled eating habits, he is heading in that direction. Since he lives entirely inside his foreskin, my guess is that he will be single again shortly. There sure isn’t room for anyone else in there.

Is there hope? Hell, I don’t know. At least for me, I’m clueless. I’ve just spent six months scanning three different online dating sites. They are full of scammers, bullshit, liars and cheats, thieves and bottom dwellers. The people who appeal to me even in the slightest aren’t the slightest bit interested. That’s their perfect right, just as it is mine to not be interested in sedentary, controlling men who want a cook.

Look honey, I have burnt my share of pans just trying to fucking boil water. Hire a goddamned maid, won’t you?

I’d be delighted if I could find someone who shared my values, cared about many of the same things I did, especially about living healthy, spiritual and personal development, and had a great sense of humor.

In the meantime, I have five more days to finish training, packing, practicing pitching my tent, packing a few extra chocolate bars, and doing lots and lots of pushups.

Interesting.

I sure hope so.