Monday, December 20, 2004

The Biggest Club Night of the Year

Kelly, Tina and I made the rounds on the night before Thanksgiving - America's biggest club night of the year, who better to spend it with than two of my hardcore party girls? They're very simple girls that live for VIP events and shopping sprees but also very hot and lots of fun to party with. Kelly's boyfriend hosted a get-together at his parent's mini-mansion. I should have known what I was getting into when we parked outside the house behind rows of cars with bumper stickers of local colleges. We walked into a living room filled with beer bonging youth - not my scene at all. After sharing an obligatory drink we escaped downtown to one of our favorite clubs C.R.E.A.M.
We drove back to the suburbs once CREAM closed.

The next soiree we attended was deemed an "after-hours" by the young man who threw it. I've known JC for a while and he's been begging me to attend one of his parties since he moved into his new house. While I've been delaying because I know he wants to fuck me, he called me earlier to personally invite me, so I promised I would.
Following JC's directions I drove up to a large stone house perched at the end of a winding heated driveway. A lion head knocker graced the large solid oak door.
A robed JC opened the door positively beaming with a cocktail in his right hand. We entered. Marble floors were the first luxuries I noticed then the wood paneled walls, laced with glass and leather furniture. The place wasn't fully decorated quite yet but my, was it something to look at. Very transatlantic blood sucker Goth, complete with a wrought iron staircase and lanterns hanging from the cieling.
"Your pad is fucking hot, I'd like to come over one day and walk around naked pretending that I own the place" said Tina. Tact was not her middle name.

After taking a tour of the 8,000 sq. foot gem of a house, I was reintroduced to Donnie, JC's cousin and roomate. Coincidentally, I knew Donnie before I met JC but we haven't spoken in years. Partly because he was in a long distance relationship at the time, but mostly because he was a substantially overweight and timid workaholic. Donnie has matured significantly since the last time we met, he is now 30 years old, 40 lbs. lighter and handsome. It looked like he'd gotten a bit of work done, he certainly looked "awake" and his chin was more prominent than I remamber it being.

I mingled with the crowd of suburban club kids for a while, occasionally catching Donnie's eyes and holding them. I felt something when I looked at him; chemistry or maybe pure horniness from not fucking for 2 months, damn Michael. Donnie and I eventually made our way to each other.
"Have you seen the house yet?"
"No" I lied.
And so he gave me his own personal tour of the house. We ended at his bedroom, how convenient for him. I fell onto his butter soft down feather mattress. We watched TV for what seemed like an eternity, I wondered when he would make his move. Or was he still the shy chubby man I once knew. Finally he stroked my cheek and turned my face towards his. Mmm, he smelled incredible, our lips touched, his were very soft and feminine. We undressed each other but since it was that time of the month we just fooled around. I played with his chest hair and bit his nipples, he even let me smack him around a bit.
Then he introduced me to the most heavenly anal manipulation I have ever experienced. Never have I been a fan of anything anal until I came three times under his touch. It felt like a good fuck should feel.
I enjoyed it immensely and then took a shower to wash his scent off me.
He was asleep when it came time for me to go, so I left my number on the back of a business card on his nightstand... for future references.

Monday, December 06, 2004

A Chardonnay-induced Poem

Broken people are everywhere
crying out for attention, lurking in the darkness
Happy faces with sad souls
life is a masquerade ball in which we all must dance
Fast, slow or just a little behind

Happy days and lonely nights
It's all a facade
Our thoughts are a series of fantasies
Wishes of being where we want to be
of living and dreaming and dancing care free
free of all conventional shackles
Able to be me, with no consequences
Broken people are everywhere, and one of them is me.

So much has been going on! Join my mailing list to be notified of my entries as I will be posting sporadically.

Saturday, November 20, 2004


I was screaming inside but my face bore a rigid half smile. For the first time, I was meeting a gentleman I had been corresponding with extensively over the internet. His pictures were grossly misrepresented. The man I met was short and stocky with a regressing hairline and a belly that hung over his belt. He claimed he was 38 but looked closer to 50. He made me uncomfortable by asking many personal questions, such as the major crossroads by my house, where I went to highschool and my exact date of birth; to which I gave false answers.
When an older mentions my age in practically every conversation we have, it means he's uncomfortable with it. But if he associates me in any way to "barely legal teens" then he's a hardcore pervert of the pedophilic variety.
Maybe I'm exacerbating his flaws because I'm not the least bit attracted to him. So I have continued my communication with him and he's only gotten even more creepy. I can't put my finger on it, but something is definitely awry and I'm not sticking around to find out what.

I did go out with Raj. It was a Tuesday night and he decided the casino would be the best location for our first date. We first went to a working class casino to meet a couple of his friends who owed him money. When we got there we ordered at a restaurant and after receiving a call from his friends he left before the food came. Upon his arrival at our table he explained the situation to me; the men he had to meet weren't really his friends, they were simply "delivery men" that worked for the underground operation to which he loaned $100,000 so he wouldn't have to pay exorbitant taxes. A generous 20% interest rate was the agreement, so every other week he would meet these seedy goliaths who will hand him $6,000 until the entirety is delivered. On our way to a more upscale casino, he had me take the stacks of money out of their paper bands and count the money to make sure it was all there. Once more I have been proven wrong; there are worse places to meet a man than the internet.

So Liz has decided to end her search for a sugar daddy. I can't blame her, sometimes I get sick of constantly being on the look out for rich men. I spend two hours everyday grooming myself! Liz's decision caused me to re-evaluate my reasons for looking for a sugar daddy. It came down to this - how badly do I want it? Is it worth spending hours daily on maintenance alone? Could I really be happy with a man old enough to be my father? Yes, yes and yes! You see, by being meticulously preened and fabulous at all times I give up nothing. I love coordinating my outfits, getting manicures/pedicures and especially shopping. I love all these things with or without the benefit of meeting rich men(preferably with). Looking my best gives me a high because I am a perfectionist to the core and nothing less will do. Besides, if I was married to a rich man I would be carrying on the same.

We're now in a furnished house that had an old stench when we moved in but is now comfortable and lacks only a working phone line. Hence, I haven't been able to post as often as I would like to and must now resort to the public library as my only link to the internet. Please forgive the delay.

PS: I want to thank Sarong Party Girl for linking me. By the way if you aren't familiar with her blog please visit, it's delicious.

Tuesday, November 09, 2004

I'm back!

My goodness it has been too long, how time flies! My post is coming very soon, please be patient.

Monday, October 25, 2004

Update - Part II

In the midst of yesterday's rant I forgot to mention what I've been up to for the past couple of weeks.
I got a job! I've been working part time at a coffee shop/cafe.
Some benefits of this job are daily interactions with rich men, some young but most are over 40. Before I received my first paycheck I realized that standing on my feet for five hours at a time and serving people does not agree with me. I quit on Thursday and thanks to this venture into the workforce I left with several business cards from eligible men and can now afford my winter purse.
Last night wasn't a complete waste. Shortly after I posted, I received a phone call from a young man I met at the cafe. Raj is a 26 year old who runs an IT employment agency; he had a privileged childhood and attended a top tier college. Although he is educated he has the maturity of an 18 year old boy, among his interests are gambling, strip clubs and "shagging"(yes he actually said it!). He also has a bad habit of name dropping and brags about his possessions. After a lengthy discussion of his luxury cars and the strippers who want to date him, I found myself indulging him then tactfully changing the subject.
He is so very easy to handle and not quite the challenge I usually look for - he's somewhat of a geek(which is ok because I'm a geek too) who is trying way too hard, he reminds me of my little brother.
Shall I give him a try? After a series of failed attempts to date older and presumably "mature" men, I'm giving this a significant amount of consideration.
I'm also thinking of limiting my sugar daddy search to men over 50, and if they happen to be looking for a "just a friend with benefits" I will kindly refer them to the escorts section in the yellow pages.

Sunday, October 24, 2004

Pissed Off

I'm sitting here all dressed up with nowhere to go. The date I had set for tonight canceled on me last minute in an impolite manner. On Friday we made plans to meet at a fancy restaurant by my house tonight. But yesterday I called him and suggested somewhere more casual because I couldn't find anything suitable to wear. Well, today I called him a total of 3 times and emailed him before I got any response. He sent me this email --

I got your message Tiffany but I don't know that we really have much in
common. I am not comfortable with someone who doesn't leave a number
and I suspect that I am really just looking for a friend with benefits.

---end of email---

You suspect you're just looking for a fuck buddy? How can you be 42 and unsure of what you want? He's so full of it. I always called him private and not once did he ask for my number, which I would not have given anyway since I don't give my number to anonymous men I've never met in person.
Maybe I give off the girlfriend material vibe because this is the second time I've heard "I'm just looking for a friend with benefits" in two weeks. The first was a young cocky guy who lives out of state, I wasn't interested then and I'm certainly not interested now. I have no problem with the man looking for casual sex but he should have made that clear early on so I didn't waste my time.
When I called him back to respond he didn't pick up, what a coward.

There has been a lesson learned here, I must be blunt with all future men I chat with online; make them understand that I am NOT looking for a "friend with benefits"(this seems to be the preferred term for the over 30 crowd).
I truly doubt decent men who want a long term relationship are looking for quality women online. It would be a better idea to simply try to meet men at coffee shops and happy hours but I don't have to wear makeup and pumps to send an email.

Friday, October 15, 2004

The Roof is on Fire!

I apologize profusely for the delay, my house almost burned down.
On Saturday Michael and I alternated binge drinking and sex. By the time he left I was toasted. Suddenly, I had the taste for stir fried vegetables(oily blackened carrots and broccoli of all things, what am I PREGNANT?). I placed a skillet with a drizzle of olive oil on the stove. Ok, more than a "drizzle", closer to 15 tablespoons. I pushed the knob to high with the intention of returning to my vegetables in a couple of minutes. I plopped down on the living room couch and hit play - Man on the Roof was my selection for the night.
Fatigue from a busy day and 3 vodka cocktails swiftly set in, 30 seconds later I was out like a light. I awakened to my sister screaming, "TIFF, THE FUCKING HOUSE IS ON FIRE!!!" The smell of smoke permeated my nostrils and deposited a thick layer of soot - then I noticed blaring fire alarm. My house was burning while I slept absentmindedly. Was this a dream? Please God let this be a dream.
"If wishes were horses then beggars would ride."
My reflexes kicked in. I found my way to the kitchen through the dense smoke and there I confronted the angry flames spewing from the cupboards above the microwave and licking the ceiling. I ran to the laundry room to procure a large bucket which I never found. Grabbing the nearest midsized container in desperation - a homedics foot spa - I filled it with water from the laundry room basin. Making a mad dash to the kitchen I threw the contents on the fire, the defeated flames emitted a loud TSSSSSST. I rushed back to the laundry room to continue my fight against the diminishing inferno. After 9 trips back and forth I won the battle, the fire was out! My victory dance was cut short by my asthmatic reaction to the smoke. I joined my sister outside reassuring her that the fire was out "but fluffy's still inside!" she said. We took one look at each other, held our breaths and sprinted back in for the family cat. A frightened fluffy slowly crawled out from under the couch where he was hiding when we called for him. Once again we found our way outside where we called the fire department to make sure the fire was out; they informed me that I could have cause the fire to spread if a drop oil had been in the pan.

To cut an insanely long story short, we're moving into temporary housing for a month or two. And since our house isn't "livable" according to the insurance agents, here we are in a hotel awaiting information on furnished apartments.

Thank you for saving my house

Saturday, October 09, 2004


My sugar daddy search has been coming around quite nicely. So far, I have 4 potential boyfriends who are all mature and established. In the next couple of days I will talk with them all on the phone and update you.

I'm currently reading The Art of Seduction by Robert Greene. It's a lovely book, really. But it's so.. t e d i o u s. There are many stories of infamous seducers. I've been attempting to read it for the past two months! Between my schoolwork and self-help books, it has become more of a chore than leisure reading. Many of the so-called tips in the book were common sense to me. Those with short attention spans, beware.

While researching how to approach men I ran across the most absurd little website. There's a section on How to Date Younger Women. I can't relocate the site, promise to post it tomorrow.

Michael's coming over in about.. now :)

I'm gonna get laid tonight *dancing*

Wednesday, October 06, 2004

Beautiful Sunset


Michael and I went out on Friday night. Feeling a little down after dredging up repressed memories, I needed a pick me up. Besides he's been begging for a chance to take me out.

My relationship with Joe left me emotionally numb. Intentionally seeking out the most arrogant men, I would use them up and run away like a thief in the night, with their hearts in my back pocket.
Then I met him. Wherever I ran he'd follow until I became exhausted. I surrendered and opened myself up to him. Trusted.. only to be let down when he didn't live up to my unachievable expectations.
Michael is only 25, currently enrolled in medical school and plans to pursue a political career in the future. With his plate overflowing with responsibilities, time for extracurricular activities are limited, which is the main reason we're not together. Plus I got sick of his shit, he unintentionally plays games. When I don't want him, he pops in for surprise visits and tells me he loves me. When I feel like I can't live without him, he "needs his space" and isn't ready for a commitment.
But physically he's stunning, tall with piercing green eyes and a bronze chiseled body. When I need great sex Michael is my first choice.

We went to a new nightclub in yuppieville. It had a NYC vibe without the bad attitudes and drag queens. Merengue was playing downstairs accompanied by a live drummer. Upstairs was the main dance floor and your average top 40 dj.
Not sure how many drinks I had, he was buying and I wasn't counting. We ended up on the dance floor with drunken smiles on our faces. His hands on my breasts. My hand on his cock. Gyrating to the music pounding from the speakers behind us, putting on a free show, oblivious to the world. Good times.

When we left the club I was ready to jump his bones so we snuck into the abandoned lot next door.
He insisted on going down on me, which I have no patience for. It's wonderful if you enjoy it but it just makes me horny and impatient. When it was my turn to reciprocate I barely had him in my mouth before he slipped the condom on (apparently he had just gotten a check up and he wanted to wait for his results before any fluid to fluid interaction, isn't he thoughtful?). To make things more interesting we went outside and he sat on the hood of the car. I climbed on top in my favorite position riding his dick until we came together in the parking lot of Mcdonald. Classy. He pointed out that I used him for sex. I laughed, "so what?" That's all I remember until he dropped me off at home; where I peed in the bushes before stumbling loudly inside and passing out in bed.

And so, the vicious cycle continues.
I will always love him unconditionally but I must be practical.
He does not have the time and I do not have the patience to wait.

The sunset tonight - taken with my camera phone

Monday, October 04, 2004

I wanna get married!

I'm sick of dating.

I'm sick of going to smoky bars and coming home smelling like an ashtray.
I'm sick of grubby strangers who've had a little too much to drink.
I'm sick of pounding bass and electronic music.

I'm sick of answering corny e-mails with questions like "Did you fall out of heaven?"
I'm sick of yahoo personals
I'm sick of anybody who types "asl?"
I'm sick of being asked for more pictures

I just wanna get married!
Or live comfortably with my rich boyfriend at the least.

Friday, October 01, 2004

Moving on

I have moved on with my active search for a sugar daddy. I placed an ad in the personals today, my third time. I don't understand why a sophisticated ad like mine gets responses from mainly electricians and plumbers. This time I took a simpler route by describing my appearance in more detail and deleting a long winded sentence. I also joined two dating websites that target the affluent.

By the way, I'm quite good looking(attempt at being modest) in case any of you were wondering. 5'5 120 lbs. athletic body and real 36d breasts.

So why don't I have a stable of sugar daddies?
I read somewhere that the sugar baby has to take the initiative and make the first move. It's difficult to drum up conversation with a complete stranger because I'm used to having men approach me. And the older gentlemen may be intimidated. Plus, I'm just a little shy. I smile at them and show them I'm interested but they rarely make the move. What's a girl to do?

Step 1 - Look up advice on approaching men

Step 2 - Use a new one each day
This is going to be so much fun!

Dancing Banana

Tuesday, September 28, 2004

Marco II

My plan backfired, Marco hasn't called me back. He's either more stubborn than I thought or he doesn't plan to call at all. I cannot say I'm not disappointed. My imagination painted a vivid picture of lazy summer nights, yacht parties and adventurous trips to faraway places.
I left him a message wishing him the best, closure is a must for me.

I really liked Marco. Mostly for his accent and the tentative plans we made, but he also made me feel safe. I can count the number of people I trust on one hand, trust is a gift I'm reluctant to give. After being sheltered and naive for most of my life, I learned that the hard way from Joe.

Joe was my 29 year old boyfriend when I was 17. He was built like a quarterback and had two successful businesses. When we first started dating he was the man I dreamt of. He brought me breakfast from my favorite restaurant and gave me whatever I wanted whenever I wanted it. Then things started to move fast, very fast. He said he always wanted to have a baby boy and he wanted me to have it. I began to think that he was "the one" but was I ready for a child?? I told him that I would like to finish college at the very least, before having any children.

That was when things took an ugly turn. It started one night when we were on our way to dinner. I was chattering about something or the other and hardly noticed him staring at the tongue ring I've had since I met him. He pulled over and wound down the window making me remove my tongue ring and throw it out. "Only sluts wear tongue rings" he said with disgust dripping from his voice. From then on he would constantly berate me, calling me stupid and criticizing every decision I made.

Then the hitting started. He wanted me to run an errand for him and swing by the office. I said no, I had homework and a test to study for. He pleaded and eventually I caved. I walked to the back office with a smile, expecting gratitude and thanks. Instead he had me sit on his lap and kissed me, then with no warning he flipped me over, pinning me down and started hitting me on my ass very very hard. This was not a spanking this was assault, I couldn't sit for two days. In the next few months it escalated to backhanded slaps and hickies that hurt. I just couldn't take it anymore so I broke things off. He called me at least 20 times a day, begging me to see him for just five minutes. "Five minutes?" I thought. No problem. He picked me up and practically kidnaped me, taking me far away from my house. He wanted to explain himself. But why here?

I waited for his apology while we were sitting in the car, he looked like he was thinking about what to say. Without a word he took out a gun and started imaginary target practice on a tree behind me, aiming dangerously close to my head. "Relax, the gun isn't loaded" he said. Just then it went off with a loud boom in my left ear. "Oh shit" he said. Oh shit is right, the bullet barely grazed my ear and settled into the trunk of the tree. He said he didn't mean to, he didn't know the gun was loaded but if the bullet would have hit me, he would have dumped my body in a nearby lake all the same.
By now I was scared shitless and more than ready to go home. With every ounce of self esteem and strength left in me I demanded that he take me home. I should have known better, Joe hates when people tell him what to do. He slammed my head into the passenger side window and said "What the fuck are you going to do if I don't?" then laughed. I gritted my teeth and tried not cry. Five minutes later he started the car and when we got to my house I walked out without looking back. I put a bandaid on my ear and never told a soul about what happened that day. Joe called me regularly for the next two years. I never answered.

I could not trust another man until Michael. He has helped me to trust again and grow into the person that I am now.

Sunday, September 26, 2004

A day at the casino makes me horny

He pushes me against the wall and kisses me hard. His lips are soft and full, I sink into him when we kiss. As we rip the clothes off each other we tumble into bed.

He grabs my thighs and pulls my hips to his face. Breathing heavily while parting my pussy lips with his tongue. It felt incredible as he gently strokes his tounge in and out of me. Then flicking my clit with the tip of his tongue he slides a finger into me. I'm wet and slippery, soaked with my own juices by now. He slips a second finger into me, hitting my g-spot with every stroke...
Screw this, I'm ready. I push him off me and jump on top of him. mmm.. looks like he's ready too... I position myself on top of his hard dick slowly lowering my body onto his.

*beep* *beep* *beep*

Time to get up.
It was a wet dream.
I need a cold shower.

To be continued...

Thursday, September 23, 2004


Several months have passed since the last time I had sex. It's quite pitiful actually. Now I'm trying to cultivate meaningful longterm relationships. I can't have sex with some guy after knowing him for a week without changing the dynamic of the relationship and regretting it. Hence, no booty for me.

I thought only men undressed women with their eyes, but I now know that is false. I mentally strip down every half decent man I come in contact with. Those fitness-obsessed high schoolers are looking ripe enough for plucking.
When it comes to the big O, I'm hard to please. Vibrators, dildos and my fingers do nothing for me. Only good old fashioned hardcore fucking can make me orgasm. But before I give up on self inflicted pleasure, I want to try the pocket rocket and bunny vibrator that has a clitoral stimulator mmm.
During class I find myself masturbating without touching myself(a trick I mastered in middle school). And as my arthritic 70 year old professor was handing out our in class assignment, I pictured him taking me from behind... with shaky hands and drool gleaming in the corner of his mouth.

On the plus side, maybe getting to know myself better without any distractions is a good thing. I'm pursuing hobbies that I never had time for. I also have a considerable amount of extra energy that I can use to do productive things, like writting in this blog.

Who am I kidding. I'm horny as hell.
Almost desperate enough to call Michael...
I said almost.

Wednesday, September 22, 2004


The more I think about my conversation with Michael - particularly the possibility of Marco playing me - the more I think he may be on to something. Marco is the older man I've been involved with who lives out of state. He's been behaving strangely.

Marco's fishy behavior:
1. He rarely calls me on the weekend
2. He suggested I visit him during the week, because he has to "work"
3. He uses work as an excuse for not calling me
4. He insists I see him and only him even though we're thousands of miles apart
5. He has initiated phone sex twice

I figure, maybe he's married or seriously dating someone.
Who wouldn't want the fairytale prince charming relationship he has presented me so far?
I'm not that naive.
I would settle for the mistress position, but how do I tell him that...

Step 1 - Withdraw emotionally
I haven't returned his calls for the past couple of days, when I finally talked to him yesterday he said I sounded different.
I want him to chase me so I'm acting cold and indifferent - I'm usually very upbeat.

Step 2 - Break the repetitiveness
Things between him and I have settled into a pattern, and predictability is BORING.
Today I called him and after one ring it went to his voicemail. I left a message saying "I have a question I've been meaning to ask you."
So, he'll assume I have something important to say.
When he does call I'll ask him what his intentions are for him and I, emphasizing that honesty is very important to me. Then I'll act like the bubbly girl he knows and tell him I just want someone that will take care of me and treat me like the princess I am - not a serious relationship.

Step 3 - Respond accordingly
If he wants something serious, then I will persuade him to get my ticket immediately because I miss him a lot and I want to be with him.
If he wants something casual then I will suggest we go to Vegas or Hawaii, plant sexy intricate details of the great time we could have together and continue to call him infrequently.

Monday, September 20, 2004

The Ex

My ex-boyfriend(Michael) professed his undying love for me today. He was at his cousin's house nearby so he dropped by for a chat and we wound up talking about "us". "Us" is a figment of his imagination, we have been history for at least three months now. Ours was a tumultuous relationship, with lots of fighting and fucking. It was either really good or really bad, nothing in between. It was more of an open relationship really. The logic was that we were free to do whatever we wanted but the fact that we chose to give our time to one another made it stronger than a label of "boyfriend and girlfriend" ever could. But I wanted more, I wanted a commitment.
We have been each other's booty call since we broke up; the sex is great. We also check up on each other every once in a while, he's a good listener. And now he wants me to be his girlfriend.

His proclamation was made after I told him we could no longer be intimate. For the past 3 weeks or so I've been seeing a guy who lives out of town. He is considerably older than I am, which is the way I prefer it. I have developed strong feelings for him and feel I should be faithful even though we are thousands of miles apart. I think it's very romantic. Michael chose to play devil's advocate by pointing out the ways in which this lovely older gentleman might be "playing" me. Then stating "look at what you're giving up for him!"
"I'm not giving up a thing for him" I said.
*pause* "Wait you think I'm giving you up for him?"
"Yep" said Michael.

Imagine the stunned and confused look on my face as I promptly walked him to the front door.

Sunday, September 19, 2004

Gold Digging

If a man wants a woman who takes care of herself and is gorgeous?
What is wrong with a beautiful woman who wants a man with money?

Men want unlimited sexual encounters with a beautiful woman - marriage.
Women want a secure future.

In my opinion, money = security. And the woman who goes after wealthy men is looking out for her future children and her own well being.

The woman you see walking down the street is a piece of art. A lot of maintenance - manicures, pedicures, hair cuts, waxing, bleaching, plucking and SHOPPING - goes into that piece of art.
Art reflects your lifestyle and status. If a trophy is what you want, then you must be prepared to pay.

Women should never completely depend on men. I'm not advocating the quintessential housewife who has no advanced education or job qualifications. Women must put themselves before anybody else, we must constantly seek a higher education and better paying job. But if a wealthy man - who has the means to support you - offers to help you help yourself; then why not?

What is the stigma associated with being helped by a man?

I say, it is 2004 and we have surpassed the ultra conservative lifestyle of the past.
I say, women should be allowed to choose whether or not they want to be supported by a man, without being labeled a gold digger.

Some refute that the definition of a gold digger is a woman who goes after a man only because of his money.
To this I say, are there men who go after women simply because of their looks? Men who date models exclusively?

In both cases, the relationship will not last. People who marry for money soon realize that money is not everything, they are miserable, and perhaps they deserve to be.
I do think love can be developed from a friendship, but I don't think it can be faked.
In the end, real love and respect perseveres.

People are shallow by nature, it's time to be less critical and more open minded.