Back in 2003, I met a girl at a Starbucks in Manhattan. We talked for hours until I got hungry. I offered to buy her soup at an upscale Chinese soup place across the street. She was a Columbia University student, so I knew she didn’t have money for it.
At the restaurant, she almost immediately told me why she chose Columbia. She was looking for a rich man to “take care of her.” I didn’t flinch. I already knew exactly what that meant.
“Take care of me” is code for this, she will do absolutely nothing in exchange for the provisions she demands. She expects you to fund every want, need, and desire, exactly when, where, and how she wants it, without a shred of reciprocation. If you fail to deliver on her ridiculous fantasies, her punishment is a scorched-earth divorce that strips you bare.
I finished my meal, paid the bill, and we left. Outside, I shook her hand and wished her well. As I started to walk away, she looked shocked and asked why I wasn’t asking for her number. I told her, “I’m not rich, but there are plenty of guys out there who are far more financially gifted than I am.” Then I walked away without looking back.
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