So the term ‘gold digger’ has been mentioned a few times here at County Fence HQ lately and, I have to say, it’s not something I’ve put much thought into over the years. Yet it’s turned into something surprisingly interesting to think about.
Greg, in fact, has been referring to himself as a trophy husband since the incident. He’s rather tickled about it since he’s never seen himself as particularly desirable in that sense. Yet since he’s been working on the next great Canadian novel and working on the house the two of them are living off of his partner’s salary, which is more than enough to live comfortably in the Greater Brownlow Area. What’s more he’s using the time to get back into shape and he’s been working on his wardrobe, henceforth a rather utilitarian and uncoordinated affair. This time of self-exploration and rejuvenation, he says, has given him a newfound empathy for trophy wives that he finds at least a little flattering.
The thing is, the only requirement to deserve life in this world is to exist. If you are here then you deserve to be here. That’s it. The only requirement to survival is to have found a way. Obviously the healthier the better but if you have a roof over your head, three square meals a day, and feel safe then you are winning at life. It doesn’t really matter how and it certainly doesn’t matter what kind of job you have, whether you qualify for a mortgage, or receive the approval of certain self-appointed critics in glass houses. You don’t have to contribute, you don’t have to be a role model, you don’t have to be wealthy, you only have to survive. The rest is just nice.
The question then becomes about investment. Ideally we’re able to invest in ourselves but that’s not always possible, or practical. Take Greg, for example. He’s been writing for as long as I’ve known him and had Laurel not been comfortable supporting him this way he’d still be writing, it just would have taken him a lot longer. As it stands she thought he was worth the investment. Maybe one day the payoff will be an invitation to some prestigious awards ceremony in an exotic locationwhere he can introduce Laurel to Hayao Miyazaki as a fellow filmmaker. But in the mean time she’s invested in someone she loves and they’re going on an adventure. It’s nobody else’s business and not only are those two surviving, they’re thriving.
When I talk to people from elsewhere that have had to spend time in Brownlow they all say some variation on the same thing: Brownloafians have this expectation that there’s a structure to slot yourself into. It’s not always put that nicely but the sentiment is that all Brownloafians know is being part of an existing structure put together by someone else, usually from somewhere else. That system might be an employer, the government, the education system, a local dynasty, it doesn’t matter. I have met many people who all say the same thing about Brownlow: they expect someone else to tell them what to do, and they resent it.
I get it. I think it likely comes naturally. Most of the early settlers were impoverished people used to what likely amounted to indentured servitude who moved here under a well-organized colonial emigration scheme and ended up working for ambitious upwardly-mobile opportunists. This isn’t a culture of leaders, it’s a culture of followers who have struggled to make ends meet for centuries. It must be infuriating to see people so flagrantly and easily buck the trend, but it’s a trend that needs to be bucked.
And the thing about gold diggers or trophy wives is we don’t know what their relationship is like. This world is a difficult and broken place with infinite variations. Who’s to say every non-traditional relationship is like Bunny and Jeffrey Lebowski’s? A great man once said: ‘do or do not, there is no try.’ Anyway, grab happiness when you get the chance.
-Rachael
