And unless he's seriously loaded, dating a man with more money than you can actually be costly - if he's been taking you to restaurants which serve jus instead of gravy, you can hardly suggest Pizza Hut when it's your turn to treat him, can you?Īnd there's something romantic about finding imaginative ways to spend time together without weeping at the cost. Having a shed-load of money might mean you can afford to drink champagne rather than Orangina out of each others' belly buttons - but it can't, as the Beatles pointed out, buy you love.
(It also explained the mystery of why he took me to Wetherspoons for our first date - I'd thought he was just trying to prove he was still Jenny from the block).
But when I found out soon after that I'd misheard him, I was surprised to find that I didn't actually care at all. I'll also admit to being a teensy bit excited* when the next guy I dated revealed he earned £250k. Which, in true Carrie Bradshaw style, got me thinking: does money actually matter in a relationship? When I found myself single after splitting up with a man who'd chosen his career for love, not money, I'll admit to feeling a little flutter of excitement at the thought that my next boyfriend might be able to whisk me off to exotic locales (or even go on a holiday that doesn't involve a tent and neighbours who go 'moo'). This week sees the release on DVD of Bad Teacher - in which Cameron Diaz stars as a scheming teacher desperate to get her hands on Justin Timberlake's wad (his MONEY, you filthy-minded beast).Īnd to mark this momentous occasion, relationships coach Matthew ( has listed the places you're most likely to meet a man who buys Tiffany jewellery as casually as you buy multipacks of pants in Primark.Īlthough I'm sure you're not at all interested, Matthew's top hot spots are as follows: expensive city gyms (the man you're got your eye on doesn't need to know your Stella McCartney workout gear cost half your salary), exclusive bars (ditto one glass of champers), auction houses (eBay for rich people!) and charity events (where posh people go to show they have a caring, sharing side). So, it seems, my best chance of becoming stinking rich is to marry into money. Unfortunately, my chances of winning the lottery are pretty slim - and the odds of my earning millions writing blogs about fictional lottery wins are even slimmer. He's probably got enough money of his own not to be tempted by mine, but it would be worth a try. I'd then fly to America and propose to John Schnatter, founder of Papa John's pizza. Two of everything in Liberty's stationery department A gigantic mansion in Brighton (with a pond)ģ. Then, after changing completely, I'd rush out and buy the following:Ģ.
#MATTHEW HUSSEY KEEP THE GUY 10 DVD SET WINDOWS#
I'd hire someone to follow me around telling me how pretty I am, and start using diamonds as paperweights and spend whole days throwing fivers out of limousine windows - things I definitely don't do enough of now. If I won the lottery, I wouldn't be one of those people who say 'I won't let it change me.' I'd let it change me entirely.
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