I've long been a fan of Marilyn Monroe movies and have several on video. One of my favorites is How to Marry a Millionaire. Betty Grable and Lauren Bacall play two ladies who rent an apartment and rearrange their lives to snag millionaire husbands. It's charming and funny and fantasy.
Therefore, it is with a complete yawn that I acknowledge the media obsession with the show Who Wants To Marry A Multi-Millionaire? The participants, the fallout and the copycats like a local radio show hosting its own matchmaking forum bore me. In the latter, it was merely a date with a millionaire as the prize, not an easily annullable marriage, but the concept was still the same. However, to appease all those who have asked for the Diva to do a column about the subject, I will suppress my yawn and comment further.
My college roommate was rich. I was more impressed by her ability to eat a box of doughnuts and a large pizza and not gain weight than I was by her money. She was a regular person who, through inheritance, had a lot of money. Many different kinds of people have it. You can win it, inherit it, find it or work for it. Or you can marry into it.
My favorite television series, A&E Biography, devoted a whole week to those who married for money.
A woman who marries for money is called a gold digger. A man who woos for money is a gigolo. The rare one who marries for money, like Claus Von Bulow, is just plain lucky, I guess, because you don't hear much about them unless they're later accused of murder. The point is: Getting married for money is hardly new.
Getting married for money on television is new. That prenuptial agreements were signed and annulment papers were at the ready was all the proof I needed to know it wasn't serious. Remember, these are the same people who produced When Good Pets Go Bad. That anyone took it seriously, including the participants, boggles my mind. I read that Dr. Joyce Brothers didn't expect it to last two years. I was not one of the 23 million watching the show, but I did read about it in the TV Guide, and I didn't expect this so-called marriage to last until my next Guide arrived.
The concept of parading about in hopes of being chosen by someone I don't know, sight unseen, with no information except his financial status is akin to slavery. That man — who damn sure didn't use his money to get his nasty teeth worked on — was buying a trophy. But slaves had no choice. These women wanted to be there. For those who did it for a lark or the prizes, more power to 'em. But actually looking for a rich husband? Gimme a break!
One of the reasons my college roommate was rich was because she was cheap. She cut coupons, always shopped for a bargain and kept her funds tied up in investments and real estate. Marrying a millionaire doesn't mean you'll have anything. Also, money that is received can be taken away. Whether you lose it, spend it or just piss it away, it's just money. Easy come, easy go.
I happened to be on Main Street the night Mix 94.1 held their millionaire match-up at Jump Cafe. I saw lots of beautiful women decked out in their finery in hopes of being the chosen one. I don't know who was picked, and I don't care. What I do know is the man and woman either both have great senses of humor ... or are as shallow as a river in the desert.
Either way they get what they deserve.
