Inquisited.com

Got this in the mail from a friend today; purportedly actual posting on a dating site’s forum — and an actual reply. Not technically a joke, I suppose, but good stuff nonetheless. Check it out!

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What am I doing wrong?

Okay, I’m tired of beating around the bush. I’m a beautiful (spectacularly beautiful) 25-year-old girl. I’m articulate and classy. I’m not from New York. I’m looking to get married to a guy who makes at least half a million a year. I know how that sounds, but keep in mind that a million a year is middle class in New York City, so I don’t think I’m overreaching at all.

Are there any guys who make $500K or more on this board? Any wives? Could you send me some tips? I dated a business man who makes average around $200-250. But that’s where I seem to hit a roadblock. $250,000 won’t get me to central park west. I know a woman in my yoga class who was married to an investment banker and lives in Tribeca, and she’s not as pretty as I am, nor is she a great genius. So what is she doing right? How do I get to her level?

Here are my questions specifically:

Where do you single rich men hang out? Give me specifics — bars, restaurants, gyms.

What are you looking for in a mate? Be honest guys, you won’t hurt my feelings. Is there an age range I should be targeting (I’m 25)?

Why are some of the women living lavish lifestyles on the upper east side so plain? I’ve seen really ‘plain jane’ boring types who have nothing to offer married to incredibly wealthy guys. I’ve seen drop dead gorgeous girls in singles bars in the east village. What’s the story there?

Jobs I should look out for? Everyone knows — lawyer, investment banker, doctor. How much do those guys really make? And where do they hang out? Where do the hedge fund guys hang out?

How you decide marriage vs. just a girlfriend? I am looking for MARRIAGE ONLY!

Please hold your insults — I’m putting myself out there in an honest way. Most beautiful women are superficial; at least I’m being up front about it. I wouldn’t be searching for these kind of guys if I wasn’t able to match them — in looks, culture, sophistication, and keeping a nice home and hearth.

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The Reply

Dear Wrong:

I read your posting with great interest and have thought meaningfully about your dilemma. I offer the following analysis of your predicament. Firstly, I’m not wasting your time, I qualify as a guy who fits your bill; that is I make more than $500K per year. That said here’s how I see it:

Your offer, from the prospective of a guy like me, is plain and simple a crappy business deal. Here’s why. Cutting through all the B.S., what you suggest is a simple trade: you bring your looks to the party and I bring my money. Fine, simple. But here’s the rub, your looks will fade and my money will likely continue into perpetuity. In fact, it is very likely that my income increases but it is an absolute certainty that you won’t be getting any more beautiful!

So, in economic terms you are a depreciating asset and I am an earning asset. Not only are you a depreciating asset, your depreciation accelerates! Let me explain: you’re 25 now and will likely stay pretty hot for the next 5 years, but less so each year. Then the fade begins in earnest. By 35, stick a fork in you! So in Wall Street terms, we would call you a trading position, not a buy and hold — hence the rub, marriage. It doesn’t make good business sense to “buy you” (which is what you’re asking) so I’d rather lease. In case you think I’m being cruel, I would say the following. If my money were to go away, so would you, so when your beauty fades I need an out. It’s as simple as that. So a deal that makes sense is dating, not marriage.

Separately, I was taught early in my career about efficient markets. So, I wonder why a girl as “articulate, classy and spectacularly beautiful” as you has been unable to find your sugar daddy. I find it hard to believe that if you are as gorgeous as you say you are that the $500K hasn’t found you, if not only for a tryout.

By the way, you could always find a way to make your own money and then we wouldn’t need to have this difficult conversation. With all that said, I must say you’re going about it the right way. Classic “pump and dump.” I hope this is helpful, and if you want to enter into some sort of lease, let me know.

I was listening to music with my playlist on random the other day and an old song I haven’t heard in a while came up. “I’ve never been to me” by Charlene (its a good one, go get it). Its about life, regrets, mistakes, wisdom gained and the singer/narrator beseeching the listener to avoid the degenerate path she’s taken.

But that got me thinking: to what extent can we control the decisions we make in our lives anyway? It sounds like an awfully stupid question but the older I get the more I feel that our lives and actions are much more deterministic than we’re willing to give credit for. We humans beings are more emotional than we are rational. We’re creatures of hierarchy and social law rather than creatures of independence.

Picture the scenario of a girl who, against all reason, refuses to leave her cheating boyfriend. Or a disgraced samurai who needs to commit seppuku. Or an eager teenager surrounded by friends at a club imploring him to take his first hit of cocaine. In each of these cases, there’s the “right” thing to do, and then there’s the actual thing they somehow or another have to do, given the circumstances.

A rare few choose the “right” thing (sometimes, I wonder if we applaud those who do because it reinforces our illusion of free will) - But that belies the fact that most don’t. The hapless girlfriend goes back to her douche boyfriend, the samurai cuts into his intestines with his katana, and the teenager becomes high on crack for the first time. How much of a choice do they have, really? Its not just about being smart, being wise, or being brave. Sometimes, its more complicated than that.

So I’ve been doing a lot of travelling over the past week and something that’s caught my notice is that there is one face that’s virtually ubiquitous throughout China - that of Yao Ming’s. From various product endorsements to olympics averts, posters to Yao’s likeness can be found everwhere. In a way, he has become the unofficial mascot for China.

Humans always have an overwhelming need for figureheads, and my view is that as far as atheletes go, the Chinese couldn’t have hoped for a better representative on the world stage. As the first (significant) Chinese basketball player to enter the NBA, Yao Ming had to carry the hopes of 1.6 billion people in the face of adversity.

When he entered the league in 2001, there was an unprecedented level of nastiness directed at him. Americans, for the most part, saw him as an outsider, and an interesting experiment that somehow needed to fail. He didn’t. In a league well-known for narcissistic players, Yao never gave himself a nickname. He never gave himself excuses for bad games. Season after season he came through with the kind of class that few other players in the NBA could pull off. 

In China, Yao gave youngsters who’d never touched a basketball before a reason to play the game, much like how Michael Jordan inspired an entire generation in the 90s. Yao Ming lived and assimilated into America, but he never lost touch of his culture and always remained true to his roots.

That’s Yao Ming, a gentle giant of a man. His identity, his life, his burden.