Dear E. Jean: My new boyfriend is really, really, really rich—townhouse-on-the-Upper-East-Side-multiple-homes-and-cars rich. He was born into it. He jets around, spending winters on tropical beaches, summers on European mountaintops. Me? I love working. My job is intense; I don’t take much time off. I’m a serious, driven person.
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The problem? He’s the first person who’s seen my adorably decorated apartment and not been impressed. I’m afraid this is just the tip of the iceberg. Will our lifestyles ever mesh? I don’t want to be made to feel like I’m slaving away to make a low-six-figure salary when I could be just having fun with my boyfriend, the gazillionaire. There’s also the significant fact that if we ever got married, I’m not sure I could be comfortable spending his money. Can this possibly work?—Scared of Marrying Someone This Rich
Scared, my scrumptious: Dating is so dull today that a polite lady loathes being seen doing it, but you act like hooking up with this dude should earn you the Congressional Medal of Honor. Where’s the lurve, Miss Scared? You talked so much about money in your letter, I thought it was my Bergdorf’s bill. I nearly called them to ask if Sofia Coppola had borrowed my card to buy holiday clothes for the vineyard workers.
Hold on. I beg your pardon. You do talk about love: “I love working.”
You’re gonna be miserable with him, Scared. Best to follow the E. Jean Rule: You’ll have more fun getting rich than marrying rich. Why? Because, believe me, you’ll have more interesting work…in the end.
This letter is from the E. Jean archive.