Girl on the Brink: Surviving Desperate Times with Desperate Measures

Some jobs, like men, look best from far away. From close up? Not so much.

The shit jobs with lousy pay that hook you with glamour almost never—surprise!—lead to stardom and riches. I’ve probably had better luck attracting dynamic, neocelebrity boyfriends.

Those, too, just seem to last as long as it takes for a rocket in a fireworks show to rise quickly, arc toward its peak and then burst in a paroxysm of brief glory, only to quickly fall to the ground, exhausted. I’m sure that you, um, get the idea.

When I was younger and would believe damn near anything (now I believe damn near nothing), I worked in broadcasting and publishing. World-class companies with famous brands suckered me into an extended apprenticeship with terrible pay on the suggestion that if I worked a lot of extra, unpaid hours, I would be rewarded with wealth and fame.

And so I worked hard, but the payoff fed my ego, not my wallet. I worked for the pride and honor of walking past the golden plaque on the front of the building that announced for all to see where I worked. I belonged there. I had a badge that said so. If my employer was impressive, then by extension so was I.

As impressionable as I was, I gradually came to figure out that they were holding the carrot right in front of my nose so I would pull the cart, but no one intended to actually offer me a carrot or anything else. So I moved on to another wealthy corporation and began again. Rinse and repeat.

I suppose that women can be even better at making a false impression, but men are not without talents in the art of subtle deception. They overstate, or just outright lie, about everything they think will impress a woman.

He professes to be a man of power. But his business partners have emasculated him, and he basically works for them now.He looks so much younger than his age? Hair plugs, Botox, liposuction, tanning salon. He’s wealthy? He is supporting three past wives and eight children, who get all his income. Nice car? Leased by his company, which is on very shaky ground. Beautiful house? His wife will surely get it once the divorce is final.

If you don’t know any better, the illusion is compelling, and you think, oh, I want to be with this exceptional man!

Only later, sometimes as early as the very next day, do you see that your lust for prestige and grandeur have actually gotten you. It’s gotten me more than one interminable, uncomfortable breakfast with a stranger, wearing the clothes I put on the day before.

In both the corporate and intimate cases, few actual promises are ever spoken. It’s all implied and put there to view and envy. If you keep going along the path, you will get these things. They both speak to you without talking out loud.

That catch, I’ve learned, almost always comes with a catch.