I remember hanging out with a girl I was sleeping with when she started browsing the Apple website.
She asked me which iPad I thought was the best. So I started explaining the differences—storage, screen size, processor.
Her eyes immediately glazed over.
Clearly, that wasn’t the information she wanted.
So I asked:
“What’s your budget?”
Her entire tone changed and she closed the website.
HAHA.
Now, she never actually asked me to buy her an iPad. Maybe I read the situation wrong. But she’d made it pretty clear through things she’d said and posted online that she wanted a man who could financially support her.
She wanted to be spoiled.
And she wasn’t the first woman I’d dated like that.
Then There Was the Mariachi Girl
Another woman I dated had a birthday coming up and told me she wanted to celebrate in Mazatlán with a famous mariachi band.
Their fee?
Almost $2,000.
Again, she never directly asked me to pay for it. But I definitely got the feeling I was being auditioned for the job.
Both women were beautiful. Both were fun. I had great bedroom chemistry with both of them.
So what did I do when I felt like they expected expensive things from me?
I got triggered, labeled them gold diggers, and dumped them.
Then I regretted it.
Both times.
It took me years to figure out why.
I Don’t Actually Hate Gold Diggers
Here’s my confession:
I don’t dislike “gold diggers” nearly as much as I used to pretend I did.
I like beautiful women. The kind that turn heads when they walk into a room.
That’s my type.
And most exceptionally beautiful women know they’re beautiful. They’ve spent their entire adult lives watching how people react to them.
Some use it to their advantage.
I don’t have a problem with that anymore.
If you’ve been dealt a pair of aces, why wouldn’t you play them?
Beauty is an advantage. So is intelligence. Charisma. Athletic ability. Being born into the right family.
Everybody gets dealt different cards.
Play yours.
I’d be a hypocrite to believe anything else.
Look at me.
I’ve spent years traveling, making mistakes, starting businesses, failing at shit, meeting people, learning things, and trying to understand what the hell all of it means.
And I was born wanting to write.
Imagine if I went through all of that and then never wrote any of it down.
That would be my version of folding aces before the flop.
God:
“Here’s a winning hand. Play it.”
Me:
“No thanks, dude.”
What an idiot.
But none of this explained why these women used to piss me off.
Eventually, I figured that out too.
I Couldn’t Afford Them
Here’s the truth:
I wasn’t triggered because they wanted expensive things. I was triggered because I couldn’t comfortably afford to give those things to them.
That’s it.
I would’ve loved taking the mariachi girl to Mazatlán and getting her the band she wanted.
I would’ve loved walking the iPad girl into the Apple Store and saying:
“Pick one.”
That actually sounds fun to me.
If I had enough money that those expenses meant almost nothing, I don’t think either situation would’ve bothered me nearly as much.
Calling them gold diggers was easier.
Because then they were the problem.
I didn’t have to admit that I wanted something I couldn’t afford.
I Was Financially Unqualified
In Mexico, there’s a word I’ve heard used for women in this kind of arrangement:
Mantenida.
Basically, a woman financially supported by her husband.
And here’s something younger me would’ve hated admitting:
I don’t necessarily have a problem with that either.
If I’m making enough money that completely supporting a beautiful wife barely affects my finances, I enjoy providing for her, she enjoys being provided for, and we’re both happy…
What’s the problem?
I’m not saying everyone should live that way.
I’m saying I might like living that way.
That’s when I finally understood the hypocrisy.
I wasn’t morally opposed to the arrangement.
I was financially unqualified for it.
LOL.
I Wanted the Woman. I Just Didn’t Like the Price.
I’ve always asked why.
Why do people behave this way?
Why do I believe that?
Why did that piss me off so much?
And I’ve learned that when somebody really triggers me, sometimes it’s worth investigating myself before deciding they’re the problem.
Sometimes I investigate and conclude:
Nope. I just don’t like this person.
Fair enough.
But sometimes I find something uncomfortable.
That’s what happened here.
I looked underneath all that anger toward “gold diggers” and found insecurity.
I wanted the woman. I just didn’t like the price.
Once I admitted that, the solution became pretty simple.
If I don’t want a woman who expects that lifestyle, don’t date her.
But if I do want her?
Then why the hell am I complaining?
She’s allowed to want what she wants.
I’m allowed to want what I want.
She’s not entitled to my money.
And I’m not entitled to her beauty.
If I want a beautiful woman who expects her man to provide a certain lifestyle, I can either find another woman…
or make enough money that providing that lifestyle doesn’t bother me.
Sometimes Your Trigger Is a Mirror
I don’t believe everyone who pisses you off is secretly teaching you some profound spiritual lesson.
Sometimes a bitch is just a bitch.
But I’ve stopped assuming that because somebody makes me angry, they must be wrong.
Sometimes they’re holding up a mirror.
And I’ve found it’s worth looking into that mirror before smashing it.
The iPad girl did that for me.
So did the mariachi girl.
Calling them gold diggers was easier than admitting what they were showing me about myself.
So there.
I’ll admit it.
I like some gold diggers.
And if I ever decide I want one badly enough?
I know what to do.
Play my own damn hand better.
— Uncle Blayde