Am I a Gold-Digger?
I asked some friends to render judgment.
by Emily DePrang
September 23, 2008
When I was fifteen, my boyfriend's mother would often take me to Sonic for a cherry limeade. She offered it as a treat, but I felt embarrassed about not being able to pay for my own drink and guilty about accepting her generosity, so I always earnestly assured her, "I'll pay you back."
"I'm not worried about it," she'd say with a smile.
But I worried about it. Not enough to refuse the cherry limeade, but enough to fantasize about calculating the number of cherry limeades I'd consumed and repaying the amount owed — with interest — once I turned sixteen and got a job. I dated her son for a few more years, but I never paid back the cherry limeades.
Years later, while skiing in the Alps with my girlfriend, I fell and sprained my shoulder. As I writhed and shuddered on the ground, I heard someone suggest calling for a helicopter. My eyes flew open. "No helicopter!" I said. What I was thinking was, I can't afford that! But in truth, I couldn't afford the rescuers who wrapped me up like a huge papoose and dragged me behind them to the clinic, and I couldn't afford the subsequent X-rays. For that matter, I couldn't afford to go skiing in the Alps. But my girlfriend was from a wealthy Swiss family and had asked me to come, so I came. I could accept the gift of the trip, but I felt rib-crushing guilt about the extra expense of my uninsured injury. While waiting outside for a cab to take us back to the chalet, I promised her that somehow, someday, I would pay her back. Of course, I never did.
The reason for this is pretty straightforward: I've never had a lot of dough. I've always been a waitress and a writer, although now that I'm approaching thirty, I've graduated to working as a bookstore clerk and a writer. That's the life I wanted, and I got it. But while I've chosen a certain degree of penury, I've also chosen partners who've had more money than I do, and I've always let them pick up the check. I've permitted myself this by assuring myself that I'll make it up to them in the long run. But as my burgeoning maturity burns the mist off my delusions, I'm confronted with all the tabs I've left open and unpaid behind me. Suddenly I'm struck with an unexpected question: Am I a gold-digger?
When we think gold-digger, we think Anna Nicole Smith. Certainly, that can't be me. I drive a flesh-toned '98 Saturn that I struggle to keep filled with four-dollar gas. But is gold-digging an attitude, or simply a behavior? I've lived with my boyfriend, Jeffrey, for over a year and have yet to pay a cent in rent or bills. I could get a higher-paying job, but I haven't been inclined to.
The difference between gold-digging and dating someone who just happens to make more money than you — and who pays for your lifestyle — is subtle. To find out which side of this line I fall on, I presented my case to some other couples I know who have themselves dealt with this issue. Each couple formulated their own way of handling their income disparities, and each has their own perspective on what does and does not a gold-digger make. Their perspectives and experiences, which vary wildly, show how such factors as age, religion, income level and desire for Gucci apparel can make one person's gold-digging another's healthy, well-balanced relationship.
Vicky, 28, software developer
Dan, 29, graphic designer
Dan and Vicky dated in high school, broke up, got back together five years ago and married in April. Vicky makes more than twice as much money as Dan, so when they moved in together, the couple decided to live mostly within means they could mutually afford.
Dan: When we got together, I had no established financial identity. My dad was still giving me money for college, and I was driving a used car my parents bought me.
Vicky: In the very beginning, we kept very separate ledgers. Then, when we moved in together [and combined our finances], we decided on a set amount for Dan to give me per month, and it was my responsibility to stay within that [for both of us], because he couldn't pay more. If we went over that, it was up to me to pay the difference.
Dan: So on rent and bills, we were paying 50/50, even though it was everything I had. Then again, she was usually buying dinner because she had more disposable income.
Vicky: I thought he was giving up a lot to say, "I will pay fifty percent, and then give up control of the money." He was giving up so much, I felt responsible as the accountant — I was a business major, so that wasn't a problem for me. But when what he owed was a little more than what he was making, I just covered it. Things didn't quite match up for a few months, and then at one point I had to ask my parents for money. That was a learning experience.
Dan: We're more aware now. Every few months we figure out if we need to reassess. But the initial agreement was that we both needed to be putting an equal amount of money into our basic lifestyle for us to be on equal ground.
So, Jeffrey and I have been together for a year and a half. I don't pay rent or bills. Am I a gold-digger?
Vicky: I think the distinction is, if you're building toward a long-term life together, you can't call that gold-digging. We made a plan that we both agreed to. I think it could just as easily have worked if we'd said, "Let's do it 70/30." But we had a plan that we came up with together, and I think that's what worked.
Dan: I pride myself on the way I handled it. I was able to meet Vicky half and half, and that's fair. But as proud as I am of how we've handled it, we handled it that way because I'm lucky. It could have been a situation where I couldn't have paid half — I wouldn't have been comfortable with that.
Vicky: But your situations are different. When Dan finished school and went to a job, it wasn't hit and miss, feast and famine. If he had been freelancing, we would have had a different plan. You have an unstable income in an unstable world. Having that rock is as important as other elements of attractiveness. If anything, you're stability-digging, not gold-digging.
Brian, 55, electrical engineer
Audrey, 51, homemaker
Brian and Audrey are Jeffrey's parents. They married when they were twenty-three and nineteen, stayed in their hometown in southeast Texas and raised three children. They bring an interesting perspective because they carry no assumption of equal financial responsibility.
Audrey: When Brian and I got married, the expectation was that I would be the wife, I would take care of the house, and Brian would earn the money, and if I wanted to I would work until I had kids. We got married in '76 and at that time, no one even considered that a wife wouldn't stay home with her children. But by the time we had kids a few years later, some women were choosing to keep working. Suddenly there were choices. Things changed that fast.
Brian: Political correctness today says everything should be fifty percent here, fifty percent there. They want to say everything should be equal. But for us, it goes back to God. A man is the spiritual head of the family, and a woman is the helper. Ultimately, it comes down to the man to support the family. A man should be self-sufficient. Women shouldn't be restricted from working, but they should balance it with family.
Audrey: Men by nature are providers. It's important to their psychological wellbeing to be breadwinners. Women, by nature, are nesters. They want to create a home, a nest, for the family. That's their strongest contribution. I'm not saying the roles can't reverse, but that's generally how it is. In my generation, a wife was expected to contribute a meager salary if she ever wanted to work at all, but she ran the home and took care of the kids and that was very important.
So by your standards, my meager salary and I are right on target.
Audrey: Yes. Maybe that's why we don't worry about you not making much.
If Jeffrey were your daughter and I were a man —
Audrey: Totally different situation.
Brian: Absolutely. If you were a guy, and you made what you make, and Jeffrey were our daughter, we would consider you a gold-digger.
So I can't be a gold-digger because I'm a girl?
Audrey: We don't consider you a gold-digger because you bring what you can to the table. You're bringing your personality and mindset, and what you bring to the home — you're not doing that, as far as I can tell, just with the intention of bettering your situation. The Bible teaches us that the earning as a couple is what matters, not who earns what. Nothing is yours and mine; it's ours.
Melissa, 30, mathematician
Len, 60, retired music teacher
Melissa and Len have been dating for a year and a half, one year of which they've cohabitated. Melissa taught at a junior college for the first half of their relationship, but resigned due to a substance-abuse problem. She's been clean for five months, but she's still unemployed. I interviewed Len and Melissa separately.
Melissa: It was never my intention to land this role. Five years ago, if you asked me if this would be my existence, I would have said hell no. In college, I was hell-bent on dissecting how binaries of power work; now I find myself on the bottom of every binary. I'm the younger, female non-earner, and I'm genuflecting before the older earning male. I never thought I'd allow this to happen, but I fell into it and now I'm benefiting from it.
But it feels absolutely ridiculous and bizarre. I feel guilty all the time. There's a 1950s housewife mentality, where in the morning it's time for me to get up and make breakfast for my baby. I make three meals a day and I stay busy with cleaning or household projects. My license was suspended so I can't drive myself to a job, but it's not like I sleep in and eat bon bons. But I still feel guilty. When I'm tossing and turning at night, thinking about things, the only thing that lets me sleep is remembering that this is a mutually beneficial relationship. Everyone wins. I've just got to accept it.
I've supported myself ever since I got out of high school and I've dated guys who made more, who wanted me to move in, but I always refused. I didn't want to be dependent on anybody. I've had opportunities to dig for gold, but I never took anybody up on it because of the repercussions. That's one reason I don't think I'm a gold-digger.
Basically, I'm not a gold-digger because I don't have a Juicy Couture jumpsuit and I don't want a Juicy Couture jumpsuit. Also, I don't think my milkshake brings all the boys to the yard. I think it brings maybe one or two boys. Really, it's Len's milkshake that brings me to the yard.
Len: I don't know what a sugardaddy is. A sugardaddy has a pinkie ring and an aging Cadillac. "Sugardaddy." What a ridiculous expression. I'm living with Melissa because she came into my life and I like her. She makes me smile and she's incredibly warm and cuddly. And she's batfuck crazy.
She takes care of me and I take care of her. If you want to deal in terms of power, there are all kinds of power inequities. She's young and I'm not. I'm on the tail end of my career and most of my life has gone by, so I know some stuff. There are always inequities. It can either be a crippling, disintegrating, degenerating situation or it can be evolutionary. I'm learning about that. You can't expunge and eradicate power inequities just by force of will. But you can do something about how you react to it, how you deal with it. If Melissa is a gold-digger, she has very low standards.
When you first asked me if I thought you were a gold-digger, I didn't think you were serious. I couldn't believe you were talking about that. I would think that would have been too insulting to discuss. To me, those words imply a premeditated attempt to parasitically use somebody else. I don't think you're doing that, and I certainly don't think that Melissa is doing that. If I actually thought you were parasitically using Jeffrey, I'd tell you straight-up. That would be an ethical and moral issue, not a practical one. Those words may have a much less grave contemporary association, but for me, it's very different. No, you're not a gold-digger. It's not even up for discussion.
Brad, 21, coffee shop manager
Brent, 23, government clerk
Brad has been dating his partner Brent for six months. Brent declined to be interviewed because he isn't out to his family. Brad is a self-described recovering gold-digger.
Brad: I get what I want. When I was nineteen, it was like a game to get whom and what I wanted. When I met someone older and I could tell they had money, I'd make myself available to them. I'd get them to come over to me rather than going over to them. It was great. I didn't want to pay my bills, and I wanted clothes. Everything I wanted, I got it, and all I had to do was screw him. The oldest guy I dated was a forty-six-year-old lawyer. I'd go to his house, we'd have sex three times and that was it.
I made sure they got me the best. I wasn't going to screw a guy to go to Wal-Mart. I love Gucci. Just go in and say, "I want this, I want that." I'd blow $1,400 at one store. Of course, if they were paying for me, I didn't feel like I could say no to sex. The richest guy I ever dated was related to royalty in Spain. He got $19.2 million on his twenty-first birthday. I was almost willing to go against all my morals and be "the best friend," be in the closet for this guy, just for the money. But I snapped out of it. Well, he gave me diamond earrings, and then I snapped out of it.
But it's like an addiction. When I started trying to pay my own way, it was so hard. I had run up credit cards because I thought there would be someone to pay them off. And at my job, I used to be able to spend whatever I made. Now it all goes to bills. But I have so much more respect for myself now.
I know my feelings for Brent are real because he was dirt-poor when I met him. He and I lived off my income. Then he finally got a job, and he just got a promotion so he's making almost as much as me now. I think he got used to having me pay for things because now he forgets to offer. We'll just sit there with the check on the table. I've been scraping by for so long that I want to be taken care of again. I'm ready to be spoiled again. I'm waiting for it.
Am I a gold-digger?
Have you made choices that kept you from earning your own money while you've been together?
I've chosen not to make more money at a better job, yes.
Then, yes. To a certain extent, you are.
Jeffrey, 28, tech-support engineer
Jeffrey and I were childhood friends. We dated in college, but broke up after a year and didn't speak for five years. In January of 2007, I crashed his birthday party. It worked out.
How do you feel about the fact that I don't pay rent and bills?
I was setting up my life and my finances before I asked you to move in. So I was prepared to pay rent and bills myself, without a roommate, anyway. The fact that we live together is nice for me, and I think it's a nice thing that I can do for you, too. Has it made finances a little tighter? Yes. But that would generally be the case regardless. There's always something to make your finances tighter than they would be. But if you're doing a cost-benefit analysis, that's an incredibly small price to pay for how much happier and fuller my life is.
What makes someone a gold-digger?
I think the term gold-digger implies some kind of deceit. It's when it's more about what the person can give you than the person that you're with.
Do you think it's fair for me to choose to be a low-earner but enjoy the benefits of your work?
I have a pretty strict definition of what fair means. So I probably wouldn't say it's fair, no. But there are a lot of things that aren't fair. Is there anything wrong with it? No. Do I ever resent it? Of course not. This was as much my decision as yours, and we talk about finances and decisions together. But technically, it is an unequal financial arrangement.
If we broke up tomorrow, would you feel used?
No. Depending on the nature of the breakup. If you said, "So long and thanks for all the fish," I might feel a little differently. But only if you made it clear that you'd been deceiving me and using me, and that was why we were breaking up. If we broke up for any other reason, I wouldn't retroactively decide I'd been used this whole time.
What if I never make it up to you? What if I never pay you back?
There's no expectation that you make it up to me or pay me back. That's not what it's about.
What's it about?
Being in love and sharing our lives together.
Can I have some diamond earrings?
No.
©2008 Emily DePrang and hooksexup.com