It seems one of the easiest ways to call a storm of indignation on a social network, it is to write that you wish to meet a man and specify the requirements for its consistency. After all, a woman should be disinterested! Our columnist, Ella Darzai, told us what the excess of unconsciousness leads to.
I read a marriage announcement in one of the thematic live logs. More precisely, comments to it. It is always a zoo and a parade of speaking vegetables, whoever put a suggestion. But in this case, the number of other individuals has exceeded all limits.The girl wrote that he earns two hundred thousand a month. I bought an apartment, the car, travels 5-6 times a year. And therefore wants a man as a husband who also earns well. More than she. Not much more.
Oh, how frantics there are men in the comments! Although it is quite traditional: "She is already thirty, a used product", "and what she can offer for such content," "soulless, thinks about money, not about love", "and how much does it cost more than?", "Ass Inside "and so on. With all stops.
Almost everyone who decided to write there, relies the female mercantility and the desire of this particular girl to sit on the neck of a rich dirty. Although I, nor looked at, did not find this desire in her self-sustaining. Probably looking badly.
I especially impressed me the dialogue of some defender of the heroine with the attackers on her. You imagine, Defender said, she will gather in the Maldives. And her guy does not earn on them. He will go to Turkey without her? Or will stay at home?
In response, he was reported that the lady is clearly not a man looking for a man, and the sponsor, so that it in the Maldives, and her place on the beds at best.
All this promoted me to share my impressions from men who earned less than me. About what is your deal with them. On the example of one particular problem, namely, these most maldives.
Islands - the first attempt
No, I'm not so cool as your girl from the announcement. But for some reason it happened that almost all of my men earned less. At the same time, they were mainly solid. Almost like me, haha. Only I am a single mother, that is, my earnings should be enough for two. That is, the alignment of the forces is approximately understandable.
And I must say that at the same time I have not the cheapest hobby: travel. In the best times - six to seven per year. To the worst, as now - at least three. Nothing is gorgeous, but diverse and fun.
And I meet with a man. Which salary is lower than the region. I'm not a hunter for millionaires any, I have feelings. Santerly I go with him in the "Mu-Mu", tearing the labels from T-shirts, which I bring as a gift, and then suddenly the heart attack, because the shirt costs fifty-nine euros. And I plan, for example, in the summer to go to the next Greek island. I can with my girlfriend, but I want with my beloved! I inform him. Like, come with me. There's cool. You can still choose the island in yours, and not to my taste. Even not in Greece, even is not an island. Go!
And he in response, recalculating bills in the wallet:
"I need to dip potatoes at the cottage at my mother."
As an option - build a cellar. Mom without cellar is terribly suffering, and build it, as you know, two weeks, and even first you need to grow bricks yourself, of which it is necessary to build.
Scribble, say. And he, well, let me read poems, it is necessary to care for the lady. Bad poems, but no one promised to me. And then, when I am in Greece, the horror is jealous of how, there are very unexpectedly ardent Greeks everywhere, while he digs on the dacha.
France - the second attempt
Passing a couple of years. The man is already different, the cellars do not build. He quickly moved from the virtual chamomile to the real roses, and the labels from gifts can already not be disappearing, because I consider it to be smooth, which with the past, even with great efforts it was not possible. With that, the previous one, it was necessary to constantly control themselves so that the man would not guessed about anything.
And here is new, everything seems to be ok with him. Although earnings and less than mine.
Let's go, I say, to France on my birthday. Burgundy, Normandy, the road of great wines, chalk rocks. Paris, in the end.
And he, too, considering something there:
- You know, I do not like abroad. Unceous there. Whether the case of Kostroma! There can be reached on the train. On two. And live in a real village house.
- In Burgundy, you can also live in the present rustic house.
- No, there is not that. There are no soul, don't you understand yourself? In the soul trains, in Kostroma and the Crimea of the Soul, and in France one consumption and conversations, who ate and drank.
And I have already traveled on the trains in such places to which sixteen transfers should be done. In his youth went. And spent the night in the tent. Now I'm fine for thirty! I am too old for such garbage. Well, leaving your friends. True by that time we already part, because I love to eat and drink. And through this constantly feeling a bad man, and it is hard.
Handbag on replacement
The third was already honest.
He was also a desperate traveler. But when planning the next vacation, every second time sadly reported that now it is not before, and then one left. It seemed to him that a woman on the trip must contain, and otherwise the shads. When the money for the content was enough, OK, we drove together. And if not, I brought a pretty handbag from afar. My purse for that year was significantly replenished.
I believed that he was a beautiful prince, whom heaven sent me. In the crisis periods allowed to treat himself with dinner in the restaurant, and did not feed the baked on the fire potato, as the first two. And handbags, again. I was happy, no joke.
And now I'm still happier. I have no idea how much my man earns. And we do not go anywhere together. And the gifts are exchanging rarely. Because I was impoverished and no global projects inspired. Not at all! Survive. And if we come up with something joint, the brutal destiny immediately plays us - and again nothing happens.
But if the gods of the loot forgive me for these Mesallians (I'm almost sure that my current well-being is punishment for them), and I will be lucky again, then I refuse to meet a man who earns less than me. Consider me mercantile creature.