Thursday Morning Coffee
"I'm a gold digger, so what? I can think of a lot worse things to be than a gold digger," I said with indifference as I sipped my caramel macchiato. It was Thursday morning, my coffee date with Denise. We had been best friends throughout elementary school and having coffee dates on Thursdays since high school graduation. It was our ritual.
"I just don't get it at all. Don't you feel wrong judging a man based on his bank account?" Of course she wouldn't get it. Denise couldn't understand anything that was different from the route she chose. You wouldn't find me giving up everything that brought me joy in life for a career that I constantly complained about just so I could feel successful. But hey, to each his own, right?
"Money isn't all I am interested in; it is simply a trait I prefer. Some girls want a blue-eyed blond, others want that all-American athletic type and who can forget Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome? Why is it any different to look for and fantasize about someone who is wealthy? Is it better to turn someone down because they have chest hair or for being too short rather than being financially insecure? At least if they tried, they could improve their finances. There are other things I want in a man as well, like a good sense of humor and being great with kids."
"I guess," she shrugged her shoulders and made that face, the one that says yeah, whatever you tell yourself to feel better. Sometimes I wondered how Denise and I had remained friends. The years had definitely left their imprint on us both and it seemed that fate was pulling us in opposite directions. Denise used to get me, but now, I felt she was always judging me and I had to justify my choices to her.
"Well, you know the number one reason married couples fight is over finances. Marrying wealthy eliminates that. I don't want to live paycheck to paycheck, struggling just to get by comfortably. Plus, someday I want kids and I want to be home to raise them," I said.
"I'm sure the Tiffany's bracelet or the Fendi spy bag didn't hurt either," she had said it with a harmless giggle but it was meant as something deeper, something a little bit more condescending. I had heard her make a million little comments like that to people's faces only to mock them the minute they were gone.
"Well, not to be conceited but I think I am worth a little pampering. I try to be a great girlfriend and a good person. Every woman should be pampered every now and again. I pity any woman who isn‘t!" Our coffee dates had become littered with these backhanded remarks where we politely snub each other. "So, how's the firm?"
"Tasha, you know how it is. I'm stuck doing all the work while Scott takes all the credit. I don't know where that man would be without me. I am working 60 plus hours a week to get everything ready so he can scan through the file, try the case and be the hero." Every job Denise had had she was under valued and did all the work. If you believed everything she said about her co-workers and bosses you would have thought the companies would have fallen apart the minute she quit. Of course they didn't, I kind of got the feeling they were quite glad to see her gone.
Our coffee mugs were empty and the conversation had reached that awkward lull. The lull came quicker every Thursday. I wasn't sure if the lull was caused because we had run out of things to say or because we had run out of nice things to say.
"I have to get back to the office. It was great seeing you Tasha. Same time next week?"
"Yea, I have to meet up with Jon anyways. We are having lunch with an important client and his wife. See you next week. I love that we still get together every week. It's the highlight of my week Denise."
We hugged and went our separate ways. Each in a hurry to get on our cells to tell our new friends how different the other had become, how we couldn't believe who they were and how grateful we were that we weren't stuck living the other's life.