Recently I have started seeing this guy. To keep it simple, he’s rich.
He lives in a rented four-storey home that costs $16,000 a month . If you do the math carefully, the daily rent of his place, at $533, rivals the monthly rent of mine, at $550.
He brings me out for lunch, and insists on paying despite me insisting that we split the bill. He brings me home, pops a bottle of white wine, invites me to the private pool, plays a silly game or two with his two labrador retrievers.
He thinks I’m beautiful. When we cuddle I would always ask what makes him like me. He always start with the premise that he is a very picky person. And he rarely invites people over, let alone for stayovers. But he liked me. He thinks I’m sexy, in proportion, kind and charismatic - many things that I never see in myself when I look in a mirror.
I don’t know what to feel - should I feel ashamed, and be bothered by what others think? Many people think I’m gunning for his money but no. I’m not. I love him the way he is - funny person with a quirky sense of British humour. We can spend hours watching Little Britain and laughing at the stupid lines of Matt Lucas and David Walliams.
Today he texted me and asked me out of lunch this weekend. I had to politely turn down the offer because I knew, we’re going to head to a rather expensive restaurant which (1) I can’t afford even if I split the bill and (2) I can’t make him pay for me again.
I’m so torn up inside. Part of me feels happy and elated because there is someone - despite the small, insignificant and minute probability - that likes me the way I am and make me feel important, but part of me feels ashamed of myself for being middle class and letting him treat me like a prince (which I am utterly undeserved of).