While dating a dude who’s loaded might seem like a total dream, I learned the hard way that rich guys aren’t all they’re cracked up to be. I dated a millionaire and after that experience, I’ll never do it again.
Time is of the essence and I clearly wasn’t worth his.
The reason my relationship didn’t grow is that my partner couldn’t be bothered to put in any time or effort. The fact of the matter is, millionaires don’t have that kind of time. I can’t be with someone who makes me feel like an inconvenience or like I’m not a priority. My ex-millionaire made me feel like my request to spend more time together was totally inappropriate and a pain in the butt. No thanks.
Words are just that—words.
I had to learn the hard way not to trust the word of a millionaire. My ex was totally incapable of keeping promises because he was always looking out for number one, and I wasn’t it. If he made me a promise and suddenly it wasn’t serving his best interests anymore, that promise was as good as broken.
The more money he had, the worse he became.
Once he began to make more money, he began to start living lavishly. This lifestyle involved private planes, bottle service, and foreign cars to top it all off. I understand that it was easy for him to get caught up in all of that luxury, but that didn’t stop me from feeling worthless when the clubbing and girls proved to be more important than I was.
He thought money was the answer to everything.
Dating a millionaire sometimes made me feel like I was a corrupt judge. I found myself accepting bribes a lot of the time. In his mind, there was no problem that a weekend getaway or some kind of lavish gift couldn’t fix. This got old really quickly, and I can honestly say that I would give it all back for him to actually communicate with me instead of trying to buy me out of my anger and disappointment all the time.
The power struggle was real.
My ex-millionaire was as power-hungry as he was money-hungry. He had difficulty treating me as a full and equal partner because he was so used to having people work for him rather than with him. It was very rare that he ever understood the importance of my schedule and he almost never valued it enough to change his own to accommodate for mine.
I got labeled as a gold digger.
My ex was always in the public eye and therefore so was I. The number one thing people started to say about me was that I was a “gold digger.” I really just need for this entire word to be stricken from the English vocabulary. It’s such a derogatory term, and it’s often said by those who have no knowledge of your relationship besides what they see on social media. Sure, our social media accounts boasted some of the fanciest restaurants, but what did that have to do with anything?
Showing off was second nature to him.
If I had a dollar for every time I’ve cringed at the gaudy way my ex-millionaire splashed his money all over social media, I might actually be as rich as him! He liked to do this thing called “humble bragging.” He’d say something like, “I hate driving the Benz with my Yeezys on.” Yes, this sentence seriously left his mouth.
My career didn’t impress him.
My ex liked to correlate success with money. Obviously, us normal folks know better than that and understand that success is truly measured by having a sense of purpose in your life. Anything I did school or work-wise failed to impress him. That’s because it wasn’t making me big bucks like his career was doing for him. It was so draining having to hear the small jabs at my profession all the time. I knew that the underlying message was “I make more.” This simple fact loomed over our heads for the entirety of the relationship.
Image was everything.
I’ll be the first to admit that dating a millionaire turned me into an incredibly shallow version of myself. I became obsessed with looking perfect all the time. It’s a lot of pressure dating someone who only goes to dinner at five-star restaurants and I found myself feeling the need to live up to this trophy girlfriend status. It was a terrible feeling.
I had to take a backseat throughout the entire relationship.
I wasn’t riding shotgun in his life—that spot was reserved for his money and career. I wasn’t even in the back seat; that’s where his family, business partners, and best friends went. I was in the trunk and frankly, lucky to even be in the car. Dating a millionaire meant I would never be a priority in his life. While some people may be OK with this, I was most certainly not.
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