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“I dated a man for eight years who came from very old money. We’re talking castles in Ireland old. Vacation homes in multiple states, cars, planes, and memberships to all the bougie clubs on Martha’s Vineyard. I was really young when I met him; he was rather old. I ended up having two children with him. The biggest narcissist on the planet. Grew up with a silver spoon stuck up his ass. Well, he walked around feeling absolutely entitled to everything. I came from a poor family of blue-collar artists and musicians in Tennessee. I was always astonished by how my kids’ dad would pinch pennies despite being totally loaded. He would haggle with people at Goodwill, then turn around and spend $50k on a new Escalade and drop $250k on a house to flip.”
“Yet he would shop for our kids’ food at the Dollar Tree! I was lucky to get away. I went to a women’s shelter with my kids after he shut the credit card off when I tried to get groceries and gas. To this day, he still tries to buy my kids’ love because he never got to know them as people. We were just property to him. I don’t regret my kids, but I regret meeting that rich douche. I am still proud of my humble beginnings, my parents, their work ethic and resourcefulness. I never felt poor, just rich in spirit.”
—Anonymous
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