If Money Walked into a Bar, I Would Seduce It

What would you do?

“If money walked through the door right now, what would you do?”

The man on the podcast I’m listening to asks this question. My ears perk up and I pause so I can answer, uninterrupted. I imagine myself in a bar… no… a coffee shop. Why would I be in a bar? I wouldn’t.

Oh hey, hi, hello.

Okay. Money walks in. I see it and immediately feel intimidated. I think it’s probably too good for me, or at least it thinks it is. It’s so pristine, clean, new and expensive looking. I peer down at my rags, my sweater is pilled and frayed. I’m a mess. Inferior. I must somehow wield power over it. So, I give it the old Holly Sex Stare™ and when our eyes meet, I smile. Because money is a man. I must seduce it to make it love me.

I transform into a kitten-like temptress all the while convincing myself I don’t even want it, not really, not in reality. It’s probably pretentious and not smart enough for me. It probably isn’t even funny or interesting, but still, I crave its attention, adoration and validation.…