Falling in love with a poor man

I have been given only one piece of advice about love, but it has been repeated often enough to become a mantra: "It is just as easy to fall in love with a rich man as it is to fall in love with a poor man."

This philosophy has been variously ascribed to a Jewish mother, a Methodist grandmother and a truckstop waitress. It has always been imparted to me by someone of my own age and, on one occasion, with the belief that it was so ancient as to have been the key phrase on the Rosetta Stone.

Or was it that Rosetta Stone was a Jewish grandmother? Honestly, I was probably drinking each time this "advice" tumbled from someone's lips and I am therefore hazy on both the dogma and the details. The source of this wisdom was lost in the cosmic game of telephone that had brought it to me, and didn't matter anyway.

For all that it meant in flip philosophy, it omitted an essential, relative truth (a corollary, an exception proving the rule): Falling in love isn't easy at all.

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