Love. It’s the subject of countless films, often portrayed as grand gestures and expensive declarations. But what happens when real life starts to resemble a ‘Love For The Money Movie’? My experience began with a tiny, silver-plated frog. It cost $35 – a princely sum for a gummy bear-sized figurine, crowned in gold, nestled in a matchbox proclaiming, YOU ARE MY PRINCE. Even with a decent paycheck, my practical side balked at the price for something so whimsical. Yet, that little frog became a cherished symbol, a “portable folly,” as I now see it. It wasn’t about the frog itself, but what it represented: for Nicki, love had a price, and it was worth $35.
Nicki didn’t just buy frogs; she bought into the idea of outward expressions of affection. Under her influence, “I love you” became a daily mantra. My reserved nature gave way to public displays of affection, verbalized emotions, and experiences I’d once considered clichés: candlelight dinners, thoughtful birthday presents, meticulously planned vacations, even learning to dance in the “right shoes.” Our life together became a montage of shared meals, travel adventures, and a growing collection of sentimental trinkets – follies – adorning our shelves. Financially, my bank balance might have dipped, but emotionally, I was richer than ever. Marriage became not just a thought, but a shared desire.
Our one-year anniversary demanded a “State of Our Union” at a fancy sushi restaurant, Nicki declared. Like characters in a classic romance movie, we dressed up, indulged in expensive sake and fish, and elevated the evening to underscore its significance. It was there, amidst the clinking glasses and delicate flavors, that we verbalized our commitment to a lifetime together. The expensive check, followed by a generous tip, felt like another symbolic gesture in our unfolding ‘love for the money movie’ narrative.
However, our real-life romance wasn’t without its dramatic plot twists. My parents, traditional in their views, disapproved. Our wedding was met with their absence, and a decade of estrangement followed. Perhaps they felt their sacrifices were for naught, culminating in their son marrying someone outside their Korean heritage. To them, our love story didn’t compute, and they rationalized it as a financial scheme. Their fear? Nicki was a ‘romantic grifter’, solely after my money. This suspicion wasn’t eased when we both, to their horror, quit stable jobs to pursue careers as writers. It was a plot point straight out of a ‘love for the money movie’, but with the added layer of parental disapproval.
Fast forward years later, the narrative shifted again. Perhaps facing their own mortality brought a change of heart, or maybe word of our success reached them through the Korean parental grapevine. Suddenly, acceptance dawned. Nicki jokes that it took two No. 1 New York Times bestsellers and their subsequent film adaptations for them to finally remove her from their ‘romantic grifter watchlist’. My own novel’s success further cemented their change of heart. Ironically, proving our financial viability seemed to legitimize our love in their eyes. It was as if demonstrating we could “pay the bills” was the ultimate proof that our love wasn’t just a ‘money movie’ fantasy, but a sustainable, real-life romance.
In the end, our story, like many ‘love for the money movies’, explores the complex intersection of love, money, and societal perceptions. While grand gestures and financial expressions can be part of love, true connection transcends the balance sheet. Sometimes, it takes proving your financial independence to validate the authenticity of your love to the world, even though, in your heart, it was never about the money at all.
