Bobby* was the 64th man I dated after my divorce. An entrepreneur, he sold his first Internet company for nearly $2 billion. He collected $10,000 bottles of wine, had a six-figure telescope in his living room, and spent his time circumnavigating the globe with dignitaries.
We were introduced by an amateur matchmaker (who prided herself on a 99 percent success rate). I cannot lie—after a lifetime of hard work and self-sufficiency, I daydreamed a bit about marrying a billionaire. Oh, the freedom it would provide!
The matchmaker prescribed two dates for us. On our first, Bobby talked a lot—about himself. He bragged about the people he knew and the places he had been, including NASA’s headquarters and the recent TED Conference. He shared details of his divorce, going so far as to call his ex-wife a “witch”—seemingly without consideration of the fact that she was the mother of his three children.
He didn’t ask any questions. When I spoke, he bulldozed me by speaking louder. He didn’t speak to me as much as he spoke at me.
On our second date, I ordered a glass of wine. He told the waitress to cancel my order, preferring that I share his glass. He demanded that I take a bite of his steak, although I am a vegetarian. At the end of our evening, he impatiently asked whether we would be having sex, saying if I wasn’t interested, “many other women would be.”
Not surprisingly, I left unimpressed.
In my coaching practice, articles, and book, I constantly urge singles to focus on what’s truly important in their search for a partner. While many of my clients want a “rich” partner, I encourage them to think more about finding a “wealthy” one instead. Rich people are a dime a dozen. Wealthy ones are the rarest of gems. Allow me to explain the difference: