DEAR GOLD-DIGGERS

Dear gold-diggers,

Let’s be honest, your parents are proud of you, you hit the jackpot! Your friends envy you, they have money-problems that you’ll never have to worry about as long as you’re still giving it good to Mr-Moneybags.

Society sometimes judges you harshly, they make you feel guilty for landing Mr Moneybags, as if you wouldn’t have married him had he been broke! Well, you probably wouldn’t have. A woman friend I often call a ‘gold-digger’ said to me, ‘Msizi, I was turned on by his drive, the drive to work his way from poverty to excess wealth, and it’s not just about money, it’s about the work ethic and his attitude. You’d love rich men too if you were a woman.’ That’s a compelling argument indeed, but many gold-diggers are attracted to the kind of money they have no clue how it was created. Maybe there are poor women doing life-sentences in Thailand for him to be this rich, maybe cemeteries are fuller because he’s rich, or maybe he’s just a politician stealing from the poor, or he’s a con-artist preying on widows or any vulnerable members of society. Do you care?

I know, gold-diggers never have it easy, y’all are one of the most hated people, often they hate you because they envy you, every parent wants a well-off husband for their daughter, but Amanda told me her dad advised her, ‘Never marry a rich guy’, but very dads are like Amanda’s.

Right now seem like the gold-diggers’ time, many comrades are marrying young models, just bear with being called a ‘trophy-wife’, it’s worth it when you step into your garage and you don’t know which car to drive between the Range Rover, Porsche Panorama or Mercedes C55 AMG. Let them haters eat dust in their VW Polos. They don’t know what you have to deal with to enjoy this bling; a hubby who is often away on business trips, a hubby who has many gold-diggers throwing their panties at him, a control freak who probably infected you with HIV. But don’t stress, a broke-ass ninja can give you just as much pain. So chill and enjoy the money, your friends are probably still talking about how fab your wedding was, you might not even have loved Mr-Moneybags in the beginning but you’ve warmed up to him by now, so it seems this story might have a good ending after all, unless the bugger decides to marry someone young ten years down the line and you have to move from a mansion in La Lucia to a two-bedroom flat in North Beach, three kids later, four with the one you had with that broke-ass ninja before your jackpot.  

My point is, follow your heart but remember that it’s not your money and someday he might chuck you out of his house (Diary of A Mad Black Woman, anyone?), be prepared, South Africa’s number-one gold digger walked out of a R100 000 per month penthouse with fokol. Don’t be like that.

As for those who are shags of the tycoons, I’ve never understood the excitement if all that you are is just a piece of ass to him, I guess it comes from the mentality of getting excited about shagging a celebrity who won’t even remember your name next month. I don’t have to understand everything.

So should our paths meet, Ms Gold-digger, if you have a soul I might just fall for you, but problem is, I’m still digging for my gold. I wish to find my one now before bank managers start tiptoeing around me. Problem is, I’m old-schooled, I still believe in love even during this graceless age so even though your capacity to love is not questioned, your motivation to love is not for the faint-hearted. So me and you can be best friends, shag even, but we’ll never be serious. But I love your drive to chase your Mr Moneybags, and I know that you had to be screwed by many posers before you found the real deal. Try and make it last.

Anything you want me to tell haters about you?

Twitter @EdKingRocks