Amanda's Blog

Amanda's Bio | Betty's Blog

I THINK I COULD BE HAPPY WITH A BILLIONAIRE
November 6, 2009

Okay, so I kind of like someone at work. I'm not going to tell you who he is, but he's tall, dark, and the trust-fund heir of a certain billionaire who owns part of Meade Publications. Let's call him Mr. X. Now, it's been a while since I've considered giving up the goodies to someone I'm okay getting breakfast with. Hell, when I wake up with someone, I'm usually sneaking out the fire escape (this is especially weird when it's my apartment). But I'd be okay sticking around for breakfast with Mr. X. After all, he's so rich I bet his Golden Grahams are made from the real thing. I'm talking about real gold, not real graham crackers -- I'm not an idiot.

The problem is I'm not sure Mr. X likes me back. I know, ridic. Have you looked at me lately? I have, and let me tell you: Amazing. But this has happened before, back when I dated Daniel Meade -- I really liked him, but Daniel did not feel the same way. I believe they call it "un-re-quiet-ed love," and for most (even me), it's a condition that flares up now and then, like mental acne (not that I even know what a pimple is). My recent flare-up of un-re-quiet-ed love is blaring at high volume, so I got to re-quiet it down with some mental Clearasil (not that I would know what that is, either).

I know there are all sorts of reasons I shouldn't date Mr. X. For starters, we work together. It's totally forbidden by HR, everyone in the office would talk about me, and it might lead to professional benefits from personal relationships. Wait -- are those supposed to be bad things? Those sound awesome! Why am I not already dating this guy, again?

I know, I know: "Mandy," you're asking, "How will this time turn out better than when you liked Daniel?" One: Unlike Daniel, Mr. X actually takes me seriously. And Two: It'll go better because last time Daniel was only a millionaire. Mr. X is a billionaire, and I have it on good authority that billionaires are way more well-adjusted than millionaires. And that good authority is me.

Oh sure, they say "mo' money, mo' problems," but think about it -- even if that is true, billionaires can afford way more therapy sessions than millionaires can. In fact, I heard Mr. X was in therapy for a sex addiction problem, and that is a battle I am willing to help him fight -- several times a day, if necessary. Besides, "sex addiction problem?" That's an oxymoron.

Also, I don't know if you know, but "billion" is the new "million." Millionaires are a dime a dozen, and while a millionaire might be strapped to keep me going, I could totally see myself living a comfortable life with a billionaire. Oh sure, not as comfortable as with a trillionaire, but those are super-rare; I think most of them live in Japan, and I am not learning Japanese for a trillion dollars. That language is crazy hard.

So there you have it -- all systems are go for me to bag my billionaire co-worker for a life of love, happiness and enough shoes (maybe).

Oh crap -- I just realized something. There is one snag: Mr. X used to date a co-worker. Now this certain co-worker was also my roommate and happens to dress like a clown with brain damage. No, it's not Marc -- and how dare you think he dresses like a brain-damaged clown! No, this certain co-worker is squat, dark, and hairy, like if a caveman and a hobbit got busy, she'd be their unholy lovechild. Yup -- Betty.

And the problem is that Betty's got feelings. She gets all territorial about her men, especially when I "steal" them from her (like that guy Jesse across the hall) -- even if they're not exactly hers. Plus she did tell me she's conflicted about moving on from Mr. X because she still has feelings for him. And I guess one could argue Betty's been a "good friend" to me and all, what with her taking me in when I was homeless and saving my job when I was fired and...

Fine, I get it! Oh, why couldn't Betty just get her feelings removed, like Wilhelmina did? (I bet she'd lose at least ten pounds.) Okay, my official policy is I won't go after this guy -- for Betty's sake. That said, I'm not about to wear parkas around the office, either. If this guy likes what he sees, and asks me out, well, I can't promise I won't say yes and wrap my legs around him, because I am way into Matt. Er, I mean, "Mr. X!"