A Story of Love and Money

The Cheap Millionaire and the Dior Girl.

“How did they end up together?”

They live on opposite edges of the same spectrum. One clutches every penny like a lifeline. The other chases moments of freedom on borrowed money.

This is a story about hunger—both for money and for love—and the ways we starve ourselves before we learn to share.

I. The Cheap Millionaire

He drives a Lexus,

over ten years old,

polished like an heirloom

he’s afraid to touch.

He counts coupons

like a monk fingers beads,

each cent a small salvation

from his immigrant father’s ghost.

His socks have holes

he refuses to replace.

Says comfort isn’t bought;

it’s earned through enough pain.

He owns three homes,

but keeps the thermostat low.

A quiet chill that settles deep,

like the fear he never names.

A few Rolexes sit in the drawer,

still wrapped in their boxes.

He says he’s saving time

for a moment that won’t come.

II. The Dior Girl

She swipes like it’s nothing.

A wrist flick,

a magic trick

that turns doubt into gloss.

Velvet dress,

red-soled lies,

lashes thick enough

to hold up her fragile world.

Rent’s late, again.

But champagne’s cold.

Tomorrow always starts

with a new shade of lipstick.

She wants to be wanted—

weightless, worshipped,

like women in perfume ads,

shot in soft light with no backstory.

She tells herself

she’s building a brand,

but the mirror keeps asking:

Who’s the real product?

III. Love’s a Buck

He saw her large Dior tote,

wondering what secrets it held.

She ordered three rounds of oysters

with money she didn’t have.

Their first kiss was thunder—

sweat trembling, breath catching.

What if she spends it all?

What if he sees it all?

So reckless met afraid.

She left her pricey bags on his floor.

He washed her silk blouse by hand.

They were both right—and wrong.

Love didn’t fix them.

It peeled them open,

made space for silence,

taught him to dance in debt.

Now they share meals,

from lentils to Michelin steaks.

He wears the Rolex,

she pays in cash.

And some nights,

they sleep like two people

who have known hunger

but choose not to starve.

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Diary of a Gaslit Husband