Given the current state of the economy in this country, I’m not alone in feeling desperation when it comes to my financial situation. Compounding matters is the fact that I live in one of the more materialistic and outwardly opulent cities in the United States: Los Angeles. It’s a place where Mercedes are considered Toyotas and women’s handbags come at the cost of a condo payment in other parts of the country. But I knew what I was getting into when I packed my bags and entered the land of glitz and glam over three years ago. What I didn’t count on was how heavily my flaccid bank account would effect my love life.
But it did. A lot.
It begs the question; am I broke because I’m single or am I single because I’m broke? The latter would seem to be a more accurate description, and definitely a lesson Dr. Huxtable would give his son, Theo, about the financial ineptitude of many males my age. Before I go on a long diatribe about love, life and the pursuit of the almighty buck, I thought I should first introduce myself. I’m Alec, I’m broke, single and kinda successful as a writer. Stop by every Thursday to have a giggle at my financial and loveless expense. Do I have a sense of humor? Yes. Do I have a box spring? No. Welcome to being broke and single.
image via christietayloronline