Can Money Equal Love?
The recent engagement of George Soros, 84, to yoga-instructor Tamiko Bolton, 40, must arouse strong sentiments in women close to Georgeâ€™s age. These sentiments range from â€śOi, what a deluded old fartâ€ť to â€śOi, what a pathetic old fart.â€ť I come down somewhere in the middle.
I donâ€™t condemn George for his decision to marry this girl less than half his age, although seeing them sitting together, hand in hand, with her eyes on him like heâ€™s the living embodiment of a Trojan, and I mean that in all its senses, is puzzling.
I see what he sees in her. Firm, muscular, taut (and thatâ€™s just her bicep). She is every old fartâ€™s dream of a squeeze, and she is also supposedly intelligent and accomplished. Compared to Howard Marshall II, who at age 83 married Anna Nicole Smith when she was just 26, George dates close to his own age. Then there are the Saudi princes who, at age 90, marry teen girls while their original wives are busy changing diapersâ€”their own.
The puzzle in all these December-May unions isnâ€™t the guy: Most old men would like to get their freckled hands on a firm young beauty. I may not personally get it (what do they talk about?), but for many men, shtupping a lass is a simple, natural goal, like taking a hot shower or spitting out sunflower-seed husks.
No, for me the puzzle is the woman. What on earth is she doing? For the young Saudi girls, the answer is simple: avoiding death, but for a woman like Tamiko Bolton, seriously? What goes on when she beds & weds a guy forty years older whose hands look like a spotted frog; neck hangs like a chicken waddle; andâ€¦we wonâ€™t say anything about that part but believe me, there are folds.
This may all be attractive to me because Iâ€™ve gotten far-sighted, but to a 40-year-old? Honestly, what do you see in him? Iâ€™m sure Tamiko would not answer, â€śI see bottles of 1978 Montrachet, Corum watches, Phyllis Morris beds, Swarovski crystal, Frank Mulder yachts and the 1430 diamonds in my new pen!â€ť No, she would probably answer with, â€śI love the guy, I love his wit, his humor, his energy and his vitality, and I find him handsome and besides, age is just a number!â€ť Tell that to my arthritis, but okay, I believe you. You love the guy.
Can money equal love? All these young women who marry wealthy men, are they really in love with them? And in order to fall in love, do they forego that upon which their eyes delight, their senses thrill and their tummy goes meltyâ€”the sensations upon which the man insists?
I donâ€™t know the answer but Iâ€™m pretty sure of this: When George and Tamiko stand at the altar and exchange vows, he must believe that she loves him for himself and not his money, or he might actually decide to do something honest and real, like date a woman his own age in whose wrinkled, spotted hand his own would look truly romantic.