my name is – well I won’t tell you what my real name is – but you can call me Blondie. At least that’s what my significant other calls me. And for the sake of anonymity I’ll be referring to him as BR. Which is short for Bunny Rabbit (I know, I know).
Ironically BR is nothing like a bunny rabbit – more like a wildly eccentric, somewhat geeky, hilariously funny evil genius who loves martinis, poodles, gadgets, Star Wars, his i-Pad… oh – and making money. Lots of it.
Which brings me to the point of this blog. This is not a blog about how to meet a millionaire, or how to marry one. This is about how to live with a millionaire.
Nothing can really prepare you for this. In fact in my case, I had not actually planned on this. I certainly wasn’t “groomed” for this with my modest middle-class upbringing and hippie parents. Do not be fooled by the fantasy ladies (or gentlemen). Men are generally nuts but rich men are of a different breed entirely. And if you think about it, it makes sense. There’s usually a reason that they have become so successful in business. And it’s not because they’re easy-going, patient, flexible, sentimental, romantic types who like to share their “feelings” and watch Glee with you.
BR: I’ve decided I’d like have my own clone army.
Me: I really don’t think you should be allowed to clone anything. Especially yourself.
BR: I’m doing it.
Me: Well knowing your clones they’ll probably try to overtake you. You’ll have a clone mutiny on your hands. Then what are you going to do?
BR: Blondie! Don’t you think I’ve already thought of that? What are you, some kind of clone novice?
Me: (eyeball roll followed by long sigh)
And just when you think it can’t get any weirder, it does. But with the right attitude, and the right amount of alcohol and prescription medication, life with these men – or in my case, this man - can be very, very funny.
So ladies (and gentlemen), if you’d like to know what life with a millionaire is really like, then grab your vodka and your ativan, and read on.