How to Meet and Marry a Billionaire has never been one of my primary concerns. Possibly because I don't particularly like "stuff," and so wouldn't feel particularly compelled to buy stuff if I had billions to spend. Possibly because growing up in Santa Barbara and then attending private colleges made me really dislike the extreme rich. And possibly because I fear that in order to be a billionaire, you may have to be an asshole too. And who wants to be married to an asshole?
But none of that is important if there are baubles! Jewelry! Vacations! An excerpt from this fine piece of investigative journalism:
Who is this woman? Why is this considered news? I'm totally disgusted.
True, it's not politically correct to go hunting for a marital meal ticket (or for that matter, to write about it). But just for a moment imagine the life that could be yours if you did.
Forget the fabulous baubles, designer clothing, cutting-edge electronics and palatial mansions that your golden goose - uh, spouse - might heap upon you.
Consider the more pragmatic bonuses of the good life. No more scrimping and scraping to make your annual Roth IRA contribution. No more working until you drop to ensure a comfortable retirement. And no more worries about where your children will get into college (or how to pay for it).