Can’t Buy Me Love.

katydating, money, Older menLeave a Comment


We all have a type. Whether we recognise it or not, chemistry dictates that a person is drawn to some more than others. Call it natures way of controlling the chaos, we’d be in a lot of trouble if we didn’t and would find ourselves in a sexual free for all if we fancied every bloke we passed in the street.

Often a friend will introduce me to their new partner and I find myself baffled at what she could possibly see in him. Likewise, I have been known to leave those close to me shaking their heads in despair at my latest subjects d’amour. I don’t have a specific type per se (although I am quite partial to a bit of meat on a man’s bones) but I do tend to gravitate towards the older gentleman. One with a big personality, drive, ambition and, as a consequence, often a few quid to his name. That is not to say that I would date a man for his money alone but with my tastes as they are it often comes as part of the deal – it would be fair to say I have experience in dating men with money, and it ain’t all pretty.

It was with interest then, that I read this morning about a new dating app Luxy, specifically catering for the rich. Money attracts money as they say – not least of all when you’re advertising your income before your name.
I might be amazing at deep throat but would I advertise this as my most redeeming feature? I hardly think so. Yes it’s a bloody awesome skill to have, as is making shit loads of money, but I would hope that the person I wanted to be in an adult relationship with would be the type who considers such attributes as a bonus not a necessity and certainly not the most important thing about my personality.

The site in question advertises itself as matching wealthy people together, filtering out the postmen and M&S checkout girls of the world and leaving only the ‘elite’ to mingle amongst themselves.
So, to clarify, unless you are in a job that pays well, regardless of whether you enjoy it or not or have a personality, you are superior to those that earn less. Am I alone in thinking that this not only fuels the belief that cash is king above all else but also undermines all aspects of a person’s personality – who needs intellectual connection and a shared sense of humour when you have 6 Birkin bags after all.

I’m pretty open-minded when it comes to dating and would no sooner criticise a person for preferring a partner with money than I would a person choosing to date a tennis nut or a non-smoker. But when money is the most important thing in a relationship, let’s have it right, things become a transaction – and my guess would be that before long the app will become another glorified escort agency. You only need to look at sites like EliteDating to see that, when it comes to a person allowing themselves to be judged purely on their income, the men get richer and more disillusioned and the girls get more skilled at closing their eyes, thinking of England … and what bikini they should wear on their next trip to Barbados.

What’s the problem with this? Well there isn’t one – so long as nobody is under any illusion that they are going to form any kind of long-term, loving relationship anytime soon. And that those doing the advertising understand they’re a walking cash dispenser (one that as soon as it stops dispensing will be dropped quicker than you can say double dip recession) and the ones doing the responding understand that the minute you admit to being with someone for their money you are signing a metaphorical contract confirming you are a bought commodity and should, be all accounts, act as such.

I have no doubt the app will do very well, in a society where the divide between rich and poor is wider than it has been in centuries, when celebrities are idolised for their gold-plated cars and 10 million pound weddings and people are being continually brainwashed to believe that ‘stuff’ is the key to happiness, how can an app which whittles people’s core value down to pound notes fail?
Money can’t buy love … but who needs that when you have total disillusionment and a 23-year-old Latvian blonde on your arm.

I will not be buying a hat.


katyCan’t Buy Me Love.

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