It is prudent to take a rich lover. Marriage is another kettle of fish, but having a wealthy paramour definitely makes many things easier. Need a social life? Money can buy one. Wishing for a more extensive wardrobe? Borrow a credit card on your next trip to town. Sure, you’ll be selling your soul, but hey, who hasn’t in some way, at some point?

Even if you don’t have the connections to align with a properly rich “better half,” you can still maneuver your way into a financially beneficial arrangement. Find out where the doctors go to get coffee, take a seat, wait your turn to flirt. Or become a paralegal, or an executive assistant in an exciting, testosterone-laden field. Forget about working for a promotion within the company; that’s shortsighted! Work those charms (and those gams – make sure to flaunt your assets, as it were). Dress for the job you want, not the job you have.

Of course, I’m being facetious, at least as this regards my own person. But relationships are contracts, and love isn’t always on the table (or even missed, when it’s not). As sad as it seems, plenty of people still marry for business, power, political gain, and just plain old cold, hard cash…well, probably not cold, hard cash; I’m guessing fluid credit is probably the name of the game these days.

On two semi-recent occasions in my life, my mom has remarked in a weird, seemingly offhand – but actually quite pointed – manner, that I should be trying to marry rich. Apparently, I have older cousins who were encouraged to take influential men for their mates, and did quite well in the endeavor. Mind you, I’m not aware of the actual circumstances (though said partners probably include the requisite doctor, lawyer, and who knows what else, if not a Native American chief, then maybe a partner in a casino?). For all I know, they were love matches that just happened to include some perks. Who knows? And really, who cares, since we’re talking about the familial version of the proverbial Joneses?

When the ex and I broke up, I had to sit through some vague commentary on various relatives’ part about how I was throwing away an advantageous relationship. Apparently, growing up lower middle class (when there was still such a thing) means that it’s practically a miracle to land a gentleman from the middle middle class set. Oh, what will I do now without someone to feed me and take care of my car? Apparently, walk a lot, max out my credit cards, and hand-wash my laundry in the tub, lol.

Yeah, some days I realize that, speaking pragmatically, it would have been smarter for me to swallow all of my unhappiness and sell myself to the guy with the fattest wallet, like women have been encouraged (and forced) to do since time immemorial. But obviously I just don’t have it in me to be subservient, even if it means having a nice shoe collection. I will just have to take my lumps on the poor side of the tracks once more, if it means staying true to myself.

Of course, I’ll still be kicking myself in the ass for being so utterly terrible with money, but that’s one of prudence’s other arguments.