Money Changes Everything

I'm sitting at the extremely fancy new neighborhood coffee shop that I've been writing in lately when my friend Stan tells me he only wants to date guys with money from now on. "What do you mean with money," I set down my cup of free trade organic coffee and ask. "Do you want to date someone who will pay for everything, or do you just want to date someone who isn't as broke as we are."

"I want to date someone who wants to do bougie things and pay for them," He says confidently. "I want to get treated to fancy restaurants more before I'm too old to be a dinner whore."

"What about egalitarianism? What about having your own power in a relationship?" I say.

Stan rolls his eyes at me and mutters "Lesbians."

I don't know if it's a lesbian thing or if its just me but I don't really like having an income disparity. Mostly because I don't make that much as a writer and I don't want to have to feel weird about it. I want to be able to pick up the check as often as my date, and if she's taking me to Chez Panise, I don't want to have to take her to the free dinner night at the Govinda Temple with the Hare Krishnas.

Rewinding a few years I can remember the first time I dated someone who made significantly more than me. We'd only been on a few dates at that point and I'd yet to even think about things like income. I was in her living room flipping through the stack of Dwell magazines on her coffee table. She was in the kitchen opening a bottle of wine when I was suddenly struck by how expensive everything in her apartment clearly was.

I hadn't noticed it until that very moment, but I was definitely dating someone who made considerably more money than I did. I looked down at my shoes and thought I should have worn that pair of patent leather Charles David wedges I scored at Buffalo Exchange.

I wondered if she'd judge me? If she paid for everything would I have to put out? Twenty minutes earlier I was feeling normal, about to have dinner with a cute woman I'd met at an HRC event. Anxious, I snuck my cell phone out of my handbag while she was in the kitchen and texted Stan, "I think Suzanne makes a lot of money."

In return I got a smiley face.

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