DATE #13: Mr. Money Bags

Lucky number 13. Cream of the crop, perfect on paper. What girl hasn't dreamed of marrying rich and settling into a life of solitude in the suburbs? Even I've considered it in weak moments...

This guy proposed a walk on the Highline with an ice coffee and good conversation. That was his pitch. His pluses included a $200K+ salary, an apartment in Tribeca (his parents owned), a Jewish bloodline and an affinity for button-down shirts with cuff links. I've always loved a man in cuff links. But there is something about a man who talks about how much his cuff links cost that, well frankly, is a huge turn off.

It was Sunday afternoon and I hadn't heard from him so I thought our date was off. I went to Bed, Bath and Beyond to buy a curtain rod and right after I checked out, he called and wanted to see if I was still free. I should have said no, busy, let's reschedule - but I didn't. So I carried my curtain rod down to Chelsea Market where we met for an ice coffee and that walk on the Highline (which turned out to be let's sit on a bench so I don't have to walk and carry a coffee and a curtain rod and look uncomfortable while trying to look attractive).

And then we spent an hour talking about him. How refreshing, a guy who isn't interested in my glamorous movie career. We talked about his job and he was telling me about his boss and some scandal and how he was anticipating a promotion and a raise (as if he needed to make more). We talked about his Jewish grandmother and her pressure for him to settle down with a nice girl and how hard it was to find a nice Jewish girl in the city and how nice I seemed (if only he knew). I kindly commented on his cuff links, which weren't necessarily my task. They were white and yellow gold stripped and from some expensive brand that lacked for personal taste. I did think it impressive he was wearing a long sleeve button down with cuff links and slacks on a 90degree day but as we talked, about him, it seemed less likely he was dressing to impress me and more that he probably had no personal style and thus wore the same style suit every day.

I looked at him, his big Jewish nose, dark hair and bushy eye brows and thought: "Not even for all the money...."

So as an hour is winding down and I'm looking for a way out, he finally switches subjects and asks what I do. I haven't really heard a word he's said since we discussed the cuff links, I was more interested in the mix of passersby and their looks at me, sitting there, hugging my curtain rod like it's a life line.

I said I worked in film and he didn't inquire further than saying, that's probably cool - as if he'd never seen a movie and didn't care to know what they were like. I excused myself with a "I've had too much coffee and think I have a stomach ache". He didn't seem to mind. He didn't even walk me to the train but shook my hand goodbye right there on the Highline and me and my curtain rod walked away...


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