Why I Will Never Marry A Rich Man

When all's said and done, at the end of the day, when you look at it from a wide perspective: the prospect of having a wealthy over half is not a grim one. I can throw my hands up in the air and admit, I would not mind eventually settling down with a successful oil tycoon/businessman/some equally as impressive-sounding
job.Romanticized and unoriginal as it is, I do quite fancy being the working class girl saved by the kind of guy that has his own "team", now you mention it!

It sounds perfect - a plucky failing writer (how I see myself in 10 years time) saved by the glamorous rich man. I could be idle and unapologetically lazy, safe in knowing that my high-flying husband was bringing home the wonga to support his loving wife. I could do stereotypical rich-lady things, like claim to do "voluntary work" and go to "exercise classes" to fill my endless spare time. Obviously, I would be lying.

Luckily for mankind, I've already acknowledged that little old me will never snag a rich man clad in an Armani suit - that wasn't either stolen or is a fake ripoff, that is. I just don't have the charm. Or many, many other things...

These are some other valid reasons as to why I'm destined to marry another mere snotty-nosed chimney sweep:

1. I enjoy David Nicholls' books. Mostly because they are narrated by losers; Stephen McQueen is a failing actor, often playing a dead person or passer-by in little known TV shows - or worse, an understudy. Brian Jackson has just started university. He is ridiculed by his peers for his seemingly irrevocable enthusiasm for all things "general knowledge", yet continues on a spirited endeavour to win the heart of the beautiful ice-queen Alice. See? These guys are "losers", doing "loser" things.

Like a good cold-hearted bitch, I have a high old time chortling through these books by myself. When I read through these two particular books for the first time, my "critical voice" went something akin to this:

"HAHAHAAA. This is such a cracking read! Imagine being like this guy, hahahaha what a tool! What kind of arsehole comes out with stuff like THAT? Wow, I'm glad I'm not that guy! I'm much cooler than this guy, there's definitely room for Floraidh in this world, haha, oh yeah!...wait, WHAT?! Hold on a minute - why do these characters sound so much like me?!"

I drop my book - ahem, my KINDLE - bewildered, with only the shame coursing through my veins to stop me collapsing right there and then. After years of telling myself that some people do actually find me mildly funny, even if their giggles are either pitiful or at my expense, I am no more than the real life version of Brian Jackson. I spend an embarassing amount of time reassuring myself that my big day is coming, the luck is coming my way because hey, I'm a pretty cool chick and I surely deserve it; the truth is, I'm not entirely confident I'm not a bit of a loser, myself.

THE REASON THIS MAKES ME SO ILLEGIBLE FOR "RICH MAN'S CHARMING, BEAUTIFUL WIFE": In "Bridget Jones: The Edge Of Reason", there's that scene where the dishy Mark Darcy has taken Bridget to the Law Council dinner. Bridget makes a bit of a fool of herself infront of Mark's fancy lawyer acquaintances, by voicing her opinions to the wrong people, drinking too much and dressing inappropriately. THAT IS THE STORY OF MY LIFE. 

2. When I watched "The Shining", I let down my once unfailing elegant disposition. Though I do try my humble best to hold myself as what can only be described as "regally" at all times, I did the embarassing thing - texted my dad frantically, before running to the toilet JUST to turn the light on. Just to check my room in the boarding house hadn't transformed into the Overlook Hotel, with all its sinister prescences.

Realising my guard was slipping between my fingers, I modestly tried to reassure myself whilst I watched it. Look, Flo: it's MCMURPHY! Your pal MCMURPHY, the GOOD GUY! Yanno, from "One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest"!? Don't worry man, this guy isn't scary, you big WIMP! Even when he knocks down th-the d-d-door with that axe...

THE REASON THIS MAKES ME SO ILLEGIBLE FOR "RICH MAN'S CHARMING, BEAUTIFUL WIFE": "The Shining" is NOT the scariest film in the history of cinema. In a world of Jigsaws, human centipedes and hills with eyes, this isn't the bad guy of the horror genre, here. So why do I act like it is - infact, why do I do descend into a quivering, illiterate coward with every horror film I see? Not suave enough. Must try harder.    

3. Megalomania is only another condition from which I cannot be saved from. I am under the false pretense that I have a lot of money to spend, always. I think I am little orphan Annie, who has been rescued by the wealthy adoptive parents, and is suddenly accostumed to a life of fine dining and luxurious clothes. Now, that isn't true - I'm a student. I admit my parents are generous with what they give me; one of the best phrases coined since parenting became a pseudo-science is "Give them enough to do something, but not  enough to do everything". BUT I WANT TO DO EVERYTHING, EVEEEEERYYYYYTHIIIINGGGG!

THE REASON THIS MAKES ME SO ILLEGIBLE FOR "RICH MAN'S CHARMING, BEAUTIFUL WIFE": to be entirely truthful with you, I think this might put me in an advantageous position. It would probably cure me.
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THE REASON THIS MAKES ME SO ELIGIBLE FOR "RICH MAN'S CHARMING, BEAUTIFUL WIFE": I'm a megalomaniac charity case who needs to be saved from herself.

4. Maybe it's a teenager thing, maybe it's a girl thing, or maybe it's just Floraidh going it alone, but I am inexplicably emotional. This is not limited to a few mere tears when somebody dies in a soap, or at a particularly poignant song. Even in what should be a happy scenario - like when I found out I got a boarding place at this college, or when I heard my GCSE results - I always bring the mood down that tiny bit by turning on the waterworks. Sometimes, I just cry because I have nothing else to do. It's not a proud existance, and maybe it is questionable that I half-enjoy it.

Apparently, there is no straight, logical correlation between the activity of my tear ducts and a predicament.

This doesn't just apply to the waterworks, which always arouse an awkward atmosphere as spectators wonder to theirselves why on earth that girl has broken down into inconsolable tears in Pizza Hut? When I'm in a good mood, I am in a good mood, if you know what I mean. I "leap" rather than "walk", I talk in "lyrics" rather than "every day language", and it drivespeople up the wall. I can't just be quietly pleased or content; this is big, big news.

(FYI, I didn't just weep at "Beaches"; these were loud, heavy sobs that were heard all over Harsewinkel)            

THE REASON THIS MAKES ME SO ILLEGIBLE FOR "RICH MAN'S CHARMING, BEAUTIFUL WIFE":  Did Carrie Bradshaw win the heart of Mr. Big by crying herself to sleep in his arms every night, and he just thought it was "cute"? No. I suspect this does sound a bit bipolar and suspicious; I'm not THAT bad, it just makes for entertaining reading. But anyone who cried at Gavin and Stacey's wedding probably does need to have a chat with theirselves, in all fairness. This does not exude the kind of calm, soothing aura required to stabilise my hardworking - and wealthy- husband's emotions at the end of a rough day at the office.

5. I will never touch a pair of tights with suspender-print on them. Now, I'm not sure where the root of the mystique surrounding these tights originates from, but it suggests that they are, infact, the only sure-fire way to capture a man's attention. They say "money can't buy taste", so even a man with money is probably not immune to the charms of the suspender-print tights.
Because I'm haughty and concieted, I think they're trashy looking.

THE REASON THIS MAKES ME SO ILLEGIBLE FOR "RICH MAN'S CHARMING, BEAUTIFUL WIFE": It doesn't even matter any more- Why d'you wear these, girls? Why!?