Gold Digging B...

I once described my generosity, on a scale, to a good friend like this:

“You want a cigarette from me? OK, no problem...here ya go.”

“You need a ride home? Wellll....OK, get in.” (Though I am quietly thinking how far out of the way it is for me)

“You need a kidney? Wow, I'll have to really think on this one.” Though if you're close to me, in dire straits and work on my idea of a 'helping' morality....I'll probably do it.

And finally if someone asks me.

“Can I have $20?” I'll say...

“Go FUCK YOUR SELF!!!!”

I suppose being raised by a CPA/Comptroller/Loan Officer/Child of the Depression parent did this to me.

Which is why gold diggers never did have too much success with me. Which is funny because I went with three of them in my lifetime. (All failed relationships, of course. I turned out to be a dry well and they left)

The trick to being a Gold Digger is to be very subtle, you NEVER ask for money. You especially don't ask for a new car outright either. Then get mad and throw a TV remote at the boyfriend when he says “No.” You act as if money isn't really of consequence but you condition the sucker, I mean boyfriend, by humbly accepting all gifts and freebies that you never asked for. Never turn them down and leave that moment hanging w/o any real reciprocity. You leave it open with the possible future payback. AKA: “Keeping the gate open.”

Any reciprocation will never be with American dollars but with a different currency, the on her back variety, to which, in her mind, isn't really much of a liability or loss anyways. (Definition? She's been through so many guys it no longer seems to matter now anymore. Emotionally and sexually cynical and burnt out)

It's delicate act to pull off for any length of time but there are a few who are artists at it.

The Two Hannahs.

I went with two girls named Hannah, both separated by decades but were both always looking for that free ride.

I should've been aware of Hannah #1 back then because she had come from a failed relationship after dating a millionaire real estate developer for about three years. I had known, and saw it all basically happen as she was a neighbor and I'd hear the stories. She was 18 and he was about to turn 40 when they first met. His treasure came from flipping commercial real estate and had a penchant for women way younger than he. Hannah found him out and tried to tie her Little Red Wagon to him. This, for her, became three years worth of free cocaine, free trips to the Caribbean and moving into his nice house in Rehoboth. I once overheard her talking to a girl friend of hers that, “Oh, I'll do it all, in my face, on my back...with another girl so he can watch...as long as I'm #1 one in his life..”

That's pretty mercenary for a 21 year old girl and a bit young to be that aware.

Well, near the end of three years there was nothing but arguments, visits by the Rehoboth police and finally her being kicked out of his life. Within one week a new girl had replaced her, which means this new girl was in the picture for a while, secretly of course.

Hannah #1 was 21 at the time and from what I could tell, had become too “old” in his eyes and was replaced by a 19 year old. This would turn out to be the case for all others in this guy's life.

So Hannah1 is now free. I really did like her because she was very spontaneous, lively and a real hellion. I liked hellions because I was the opposite. For me, life is meant to be tread carefully because of all those landmines, ruts, gopher holes and razor ribbon can snag you. If you've ever had your life upended for a few years by stepping on one of life's mines...you tend to be careful where you step from that point on.

A few hellions I've found, tend to escape without so much as a scratch when they blow up their own lives. It's gotta be luck or some very odd skill I can't locate in them. Hannah could to that and I liked the roller coaster ride she provided.

But...

Hannah liked her money, well, other people's money to be exact and as we hung out, I noticed that the restaurants she wanted to go to tended to get pricier and pricier. My radar one day came “on” when we were in Filene's in Emerald Square mall where she was looking at some pendant, ooing and ahhing over it. I suppose it was pretty. What do I know of jewelry except that pendant weighed about $300 in gold. After the girl had put it back in it's display case and we walked on, I saw Hannah's face pouting like a little girl denied her ice cream. She hadn't outright asked me to get it but was expecting me to “get the message” that she liked it so much that I'd pick it up for her.

Nope. Fuck that. My CV joints in my Dodge 400 convertible wanted money too and it had first dibs. I didn't have inexhaustible resources like her previous beau.

Summer romances end in September for some reason. Playtime is over as the beaches close up and the days shorten. Hannah1 did the same with me, I was put away. In a month's time she had found her true love finally. An owner a medical supply/oxygen rental business. She fell in love with his assets, sorry, I mean him and dated him for about a year when that blew up as well. He was older and from what I saw, a little weary of life and got tired of dealing with her over hellion ways. She could be hard to handle at times because of her immaturity. How often do you want the police at your business because everyone can hear the screamfest and possible domestic violence?

Today? She's just turned 50 and out of the dating game. She can't snag anymore Rhett Butler's because any college age girl can out compete her in an instant. She never did bag the rich guy for the happily ever after dream princess life. She's been enslaved to the work a day life and sipping wine a bit too much.

Hannah # 2

Hannah2 was dirt poor, no real occupational skills with dreams of being well off. But that didn't include putting the effort into getting job skills. She was 30 when I met her and had spent her life working at pet shops and veterinarians as an assistant. She was also damned cute looking and she too had that black streak I liked, unpredictability. With the right amount of cinnamon schnapps, she was up for anything.

Since she was dirt poor, she drove a shitbox that was rusting slowly away and would break down from time to time. She was tired of having to fix it and wanted a newer car by the time I had met her. The repairs the car needed weren't wallet busting but just a common event that kept cropping up.

One night at her apartment in Riverside, she was hinting heavily about getting a new car, that year's model. I mean hinting in that I should pay for it. I was sitting on the couch, inwardly rolling my eyes in my head while I heard this and finally stood up and told her, “No, I'm not spending $15,000+ on you.”

I walked towards her kitchen when I hear a faint “fuck you” and I turned around and felt something smack my mouth. I didn't know what hit me but I saw a TV remote on the floor that wasn't there a half a second ago. Then I felt that funny warm watery feeling dripping down my chin. I swiped my chin with my hand and saw the blood.

She was so pissed with my denial she had whipped the remote at me. It was great timing as I was turning around and it nailed my lower lip. It was split open!

By then she was standing up, yelling, “YOU'VE go the money! You can buy it!”

I stood there in shock. “What major balls!” I thought.

“No way would I spend thousands on a whore!” I said. I said that in that I wouldn't spend huge sums of money on a whore, a newish girlfriend (her) or possibly even my own damn Mother had she needed a new car. But because I don't think sometimes when I open my mouth and everyone misinterprets what I say, she says...

“I'm a whore??!!”

Lucky I didn't answer that but my silence just set her off further.

“Answer me! You calling me a whore?”

Do you know how I wanted to say she was one? To confirm it for her so she'd hit the roof? Really toss gas on the fire and watch her implode?

I made the smarter decision and left.

Two days later I'm at work, a place called PV. Everyone noticed the healing slit on my lip. If you work with the same people for years upon years, they tend to easily notice if you have a new, tiny freckle forming on your left ear. So I have to explain the cut lip.

Later in the office I'm telling the same story to D, who spins around in his chair and speaks his final and one-word opinion of her.

“Whore...” he says.

So it wasn't just me!

Hannah2 left eventually and now I hear she's semi-happy with a divorced guy in Taunton who does something with the seafood markets out on the Cape. She drives a newer version of a shitbox now and doesn't work at any vet's office. Well, she got half of what she wanted.

Last one and it's just a vignette.

I use my kitchen table as a workbench, desk, shelf and whatever. It also means I keep bills, financial statements and a lot of other shit there in the open. I like having that stuff easily available.

A “Not Hannah at All,” a girl I knew a few years ago, was sitting at it with me and we were talking. I then noticed she was putting some exertion in looking at a sheet of paper on the other side of the table. I could tell she was straining to read it, people show everything on their face you know. She was straining to read it because it was upside down to her. It was my IRA statement from T Rowe Price.

She was trying to find that final line: Total Shares/Total NAV for the month.

In my head I nearly screamed, “Jesus H Christ, how OBVIOUS can you be!”

Look, I know anyone would read that if it was left out in the open, I would too, but most wouldn't be so blatant about it either. Most would wait for a moment when no one would see them look. “Not Hannah #3” was pretty shameless about it though.

So, kudos to you women who make your own way!