"You marry me. I have money."
The hot tight bodied female asking for my hand in matrimony was holding out a tight roll of American currency in her hand. Now having girls giving me money and asking for marriage is not something I have happen a lot.
This brings up the big question-Why?
Was her plea for us to be wed in married bliss due to my stunning good looks? Hardly-sure I was fit and trim at a little over 5 foot 6 inches, but at best my looks could be described as "ordinary or regular". I had a most forgettable face, one of the thousands of no name, everyday common people you would never ever notice in a crowd. Mr. "Average" -in height, weight, hair color, etc. I would have made a great spy-able to get in and slip away without everyone knowing I was there.
Then it must have been my fine sports car that captured her fancy. Nope- a 4 year old Volkswagen diesel Jetta is hardly a "babe magnet". Perhaps it was my living conditions, like a huge mansion on the beach with a yacht?-Guess again. I lived in the same stately old home my grandparents had brought me up in and left me after their death. The house was a nice place in a solid middle class neighborhood, but nothing to catch the eye of a lady this fine. No doubt then the draw was my jet setting life style combined with massive wealth-that must be it? Wrong-As a 27 year old organizer for a charity group I made about the same salary as a McDonalds manager. As the low man of seniority on the totem pole I did not do the glittery galas, but the 3K fun runs and cold call drives.
She must have been overcome with my smooth gift of gab? The talk that made girls panties fall off like snowflakes, a "Real player"? Yea I wish! A virgin until 18, it took a lot of booze and begging to get the school slut who was coyote ugly to give it up my first time.
For those of you with the mind in the gutter-I am not hung like John Holmes. Pretty average in that department also -not that this woman pleading ever saw my "gear".
Normally ladies of this caliber would never even notice me. They might speak to me to ask directions, or if they needed someone to carry their bags on a good day. So what could I have that would attract this Maxim quality poster babe?
Well I was in an organization that was exclusive to a few million people. My pertinent ancestors managed not to get squashed, devoured, drowned, starved, stranded, stuck fast, untimely wounded and were able to deliver a tiny charge of genetic material to the right partner at the right moment in the time and in the right place. I was a charter member of the lucky sperm club.
Yes I was a passport holding-true blue-born in the USA-American citizen. The big bonus was I was also a single straight unmarried male. Now I am not bragging –as I had nothing to do with this (except for the straight unmarried part). In most places of the globe American citizenship means nothing-like having brown hair. In other parts of the world being an American is a bad thing. But right now in this place, to some people, especially this female in front of me-being a single American male was currency and barter for trade.
The female in question was named Pia. She was an Asian beauty of the classic kind. A little over 5 foot 4 inches, Pia had the long straight hair, high cheekbones, with facial features that accompanied by a dazzling smile lit up a room. Combine that and a body to die for, Pia was slim, sexy and managed to be make coveralls look good. I was in lust every time I saw her.
"Ron you listen to me." Pia's voice floated through my thoughts as she held out the money.
"Pia."I tried not to laugh. "I can't marry you. We hardly know each other."
"You know me long time Ron." Pia said stubbornly. "You want more money? I get more. I ask Mr. Wilson's grown children more severance-go away money."
Pia had been a caretaker for Mr. Wilson my next door neighbor for the past few years until his death last month. Pia had been a home health worker/nurse/cook/maid/helper/companion. Mr. Wilson had been my CYO football coach when I was a kid. I knew Pia fairly well, she called on me whenever she had a chore or home repair she was unable to do. Your basic good neighbor deed. However marriage was a bit outside of being "neighborly".
"Pia" I shook my head at her "You are a treasure, I am truly flattered. What possible reason could you have for wanting to marry me."
"American INS."Pia than spat out something in her native tongue-I do not think it was a compliment to that government agency. "INS give me 90 days to go home. Say my visa no good no more. Mr. Wilsons children they no help, want to sell house. Mr. Wilson children give me money, I give you, you marry me Ron."
"Pia, It is not about money. You can't marry someone you do not love. Believe me there is someone out that that will love you. With your looks you can get any guy."
Pia waved her hand. "Ron I have no time for love. I need good man, you good man."
'Pia you want to spend the rest of your life with someone you do not love?" I asked.
Pia looked at me strangely. "Ron-Why you say rest of life married? I see lawyer about Immigration. He saw we only need marry two years. I go away then to marry better man then you waiting for me at home."
Now I had to laugh. "Pia you are one smooth talker. How can I turn down a proposal that lets me know I am not only in 2nd place, but a loser to some guy I never met. Why not just go home now to Mr. Wonderful and live happily ever after."
Pia stamped her foot. "Ron why you be so stubborn! I need to stay in America, make money for Mother and sister. I send all money home pay for sisters school, Mother need medicine, she now live. You want more money? I try to get more. Mother die I no send money home. Sister out on street."
"Great." I thought, now I am going to kill her mother and make her family homeless."
"Pia." I tried to bargain with her. "I told you it is not about the money. I marry you like you want it is called "fraud" we both go to jail. How will you do your Mom and sister any good if you are in an American prison then deported."
She was not to be deterred. "Ron if the INS send me home I no good to Mother and sister anyway. Who care we marry? It all OK. I see your house -you need good woman. I good women, I cook good, take care of you, you no be sorry."
"Pia." I started. "You are crazy." She was looking desperate, and in truth I wouldn't mind eating something besides microwaved meals, plus Pia was easy on the eyes. I tried to let her down easy, besides this conversation was going nowhere. "Let me think about it. We will talk about it later." I figured Pia would forget about this dumb idea, or I would just avoid her.
Pia surprised me by slapping the roll of bills in my hand. "Ron you need think fast, Mr. Wilson children want me out by weekend."
I shoved the roll of bills back at Pia. "Look Pia I am not taking your money." I turned and walked up to my home.
I did not need Pia's money. Not many people knew it-but I was a trust fund baby. No, not the multi-millionaire type trust fund. My grandfather had developed the key ingredient in a well-known regional soft drink years ago. The trust got a small percentage of sales via some complicated formula each year. Each March I got a check. Not enough to allow me to trot the globe and gamble in Monte Carlo, but more than enough to allow me to supplement the income of any job I wanted. The trust money gave me time, -time to do what I wanted. I had learned to fly, studied several martial arts, learned to paint, repair homes, first aid and tried my hand at music. I regularly donated to several charities and civic activities -all anonymous.
At age 17 my grandfather had taught me a valuable lesson. I had just gotten my first trust check. Naturally it was down payment on an expensive new car, party time with babes and booze. The third month into my drunken sailor spending spree, Grandfather froze my bank account and had my car repo'd. It was sobering experience to see my "friends" disappear like snowflakes on a warm sidewalk. I never again told anyone about my trust and lived well within my means. I was amazed at the human nature of the people-especially females. Girls would swoon over some guy who had a flashy (behind payment) car, and maxed out credit cards, yet I could not get service from a cute bank teller until she found my account held in excess of high 6 figures. I had yet to meet a young lady who did not value form over function.
I had more than a few girlfriends dump me because of my lifestyle. It was not uncommon to be told after a few dates "Ron you are a nice guy-but you have such a mundane loser job. You are not going anywhere, I deserve better."
I did ok with sex-never had to pay for it (yet), but while I was looking for Ms. Right-they were all looking for Mr. Right Now or a guy -who could as a popular movie once said "Show Me The Money!". One night stands are fun-but getting old. It seemed impossible to find any member of the opposite sex not superficial.
The next morning Pia was on my doorstep with several suitcases and boxes.
I looked on astonished as Pia piled her things into my living room.
"Ron" Pia said in-between trips from the porch to the living room. "I stay here while you think. You see life much good with me as wife."
"Damnit Pia" I started, I looked at my watch-I was late for a big meeting. "You can't stay here. Don't do squat until I get back tonight."
"Yes Ron Yes Yes."Pia replied ignoring me "You go to job, we talk you come back. Go, Go now." she pushed me out the door.
.... There is more of this story ...