Over the last few days, it seems I have had several conversations about finances, or rather, about wealthy men providing for women. Over the years, and my dating career, I have had the pleasure of dating many of them. But one thing has remained true: Me. Most of these men were very generous, and offered to buy this or that, pay for this or that, or give me their Centurion card for my spending pleasure…oh, I could have had it all! But to be honest, the only man I have ever let give me money was the man I thought would be my husband.
Money does not a good man make, it only amplifies what is already there, so I have never judged anyone other than by the standards of their morals. A man is only as good as his word, is what I was taught. And if his word is no good, then neither is he. And no amount of money can change that.
There was one gentleman who owned his own small private airline. Celebrities would charter his private jets to fly all over the world. And flying around in his private jets was wonderful. He took me up to fly many times, and I even flew one for about 30 minutes. He even let me take off once…he was right there in control, so there was no real danger. And I did enjoy his toys very much. But he did not like that I would not put everything down for him when he wanted to see me. He many times invited me at the last minute to fly to some exotic location, tell me not to worry about my writing deadlines, he would pay my bills. Try as I might, I couldn’t do it. I need to know that I can take care of myself, thankyouverymuch. I need my own life, my own career, my own independence. And I have found that many men expect control when they start providing financial gifts. I can’t do that. I am too proud. I am too independent. I am too…Me. And I will never owe anyone.
Oh, I can sound tough can’t I? Beat my chest and talk about pride, and all those other things that go with it. But if I am truly honest with myself, the reason I cannot is out of fear. I never want anyone to wonder if, or worse, think that they are being used, as it is a terrible feeling. I have felt it. And I never want to be accused of using someone either. I fear that if I let someone do those things for me it may make them wonder about my motives for being with them. I fear they may resent me. I fear that losing the independence of always paying my own bills, will somehow make me less of a person. Less respected. Taken less seriously as a human being. I fear being misunderstood. It takes a lot of trust – for both the giver and receiver.
But which is worse, fearing someone will think you are using, or fearing that you might be the one to be used? Which is more prohibitive?
So when I am with another, I am there because I like them, I want to know more about them, I enjoy their company, their laugh, their smile, their voice. Is that to say that I would never let someone take care of me? No, it simply means that I would have to be comfortable enough with them to know that they knew me well enough to have no doubts as to where my affection lies. And then, by all means, spoil away!