City Love(27)

D leans back in his chair. “Your idealism is sweet. It’s refreshing to be with a woman who has strong opinions for a change. With other girls I’ve dated it was like, have an original thought, you know?”

Um. Is he seriously talking about other girls he’s dated? On his first date with me? How tacky is that? The date takes an even sharper turn when I ask D about his internship. He reminds me of how disgusting his career choice is.

“My supervisor has this one client who won’t stop yelling at him. The client has only made fifty million this year. He thinks it should be double by now. No matter how many times my supervisor explains that this is the best we can do in a crappy market, he’s never satisfied.”

“How much money does he need?”

“That’s beside the point. He has more money than he could ever spend. The guy is worth billions, but it’s never enough for him. He just wants to make as much as possible.”

“Why?”

“Because he can.”

“But he already has more than enough.”

“It doesn’t matter. One of the excellent things about this country is that there’s essentially no limit to how much you can achieve. If you work hard, you’ll achieve greatness.”

“Not necessarily. There are people who work hard their whole lives and never pull themselves out of poverty. Plenty of single mothers are working two or three jobs and can barely put food on the table. No matter how hard they work, they’ll always be stuck. And their kids will probably grow up to perpetuate the same cycle of poverty.”

“What do you think should be done to help them?”

“More extensive educational outreach. More affordable housing. More charitable contributions.”

“The client I was telling you about contributes millions to charities every year.”

“We should raise taxes for millionaires. Then more government money could go toward services in low-income areas.”

“That might happen. But there will always be a huge discrepancy between low-income earners and the wealthiest Americans.”

“The inequality shouldn’t be so extreme.”

“So you’re saying there should be a limit to what people can earn? What if you became a millionaire? Would you want the government limiting the amount of success you’re entitled to?”

“No, but . . . I just think it’s unfair that so many people are living in poverty while others have far more money than they could ever spend. It’s not right.”

“Your opinion would be different if you had money.”

“Is that why you want to be an investment banker? To make a lot of money?”

“Working in finance gives you the freedom to live exactly the way you want. My parents have created a comfortable, amazing life for themselves and their kids. They can afford to experience the best this city has to offer. They can travel anywhere in the world. Money is just a tool to accomplish those goals. You have to admit, life is a lot less stressful when you don’t have to worry about paying the rent or putting food on the table.”


Okay, he has a point. Not that I’m about to admit it out loud. Money does make life easier to some extent. But D is wrong about money allowing you to live exactly the way you want. The most important things in life can’t be purchased. Love. Happiness. Purpose. Will D feel as fulfilled as he thinks he will?

Dessert menus suddenly appear. I can’t believe we’ve already had dinner. The whole debate with D went by in a flash. Does he really think it’s okay that so many people who work hard are barely scraping by? That’s like saying it’s okay that kids go to bed hungry every night, or spend winters with no heat or hot water, or don’t even have a home to live in. How is any of that okay?

When it’s time to go, I take a last look around. This will probably be my one and only time at an upscale restaurant. My life will be dedicated to working hard and helping people in need. The combination of those two goals doesn’t tend to result in big paychecks.

D pulls out my chair for me. We walk to the door in silence. Out in front of the elaborate ivy, we stand off to the side so other people can get by. Thursday is apparently the big night to go out in New York. People pass by us in couples or groups. It’s amazing how many people are out at ten on a weeknight.

“This was fun,” D says. “We should do it again.”

I really don’t see that happening. But I smile and nod a little to be polite.

D hugs me. He feels really good. I can’t help noticing that we fit together like puzzle pieces.

He pulls back, says he’ll see me soon, and we part ways. He hails a cab at the corner. I could never afford to take cabs. They’re crazy expensive. D told me he takes them every day. He takes cabs the way most people take the subway. He’ll take a cab even if the subway is right there. I forget what he said exactly . . . something about how money is a tool to make his life easier. If I were him, I’d take the subway and save as much as I could. How much of a relief would it be to have money saved? I wouldn’t have to worry all the time. I wouldn’t feel the need for a Plan D.

Walking home, I think about D. His glossy charm and smooth ways don’t impress me. I’m a long-term-relationship kind of girl. Not that I’ve had a long-term relationship yet. But when I do have a relationship, I want it to be serious. I could never date around casually like Darcy. I want to fall in love with a boy I can share my life with in a real way. Isn’t that the point of a relationship? To really share your life with someone? And if you’re sharing your life with someone, shouldn’t that person share the same morals and values as you?