I Don’t Want To Do Anything, So You Better Be Rich

I’m pretty. Therefore I deserve millions of dollars and a husband who spoils me. If you’re a millionaire, keep reading; if you’re not, keep reading anyway in case you score an inheritance or a lucrative legal settlement in the near future. Did I mention that with a blonde wig on I look like Marilyn Monroe? Only classier.

Username: DiamondsRAgirlsBFF.

Turn-ons: Bathing in Dom Perignon, foie gras-caviar smoothies.

Turn-offs: Paying my own bills.

Hobbies: Studying the movie Priceless for strategic tips.

Body type: Trophy wife.

Perfect first date: We board his private jet for St. Tropez and spend the evening shopping and sampling aged wine. Probably red wine. Possibly rose. I go for a sunset dip in my new maillot de bain and Tiffany jewels. I shake my wet hair as I come out of the surf so that he is entranced by my beauty and thus forced to propose on the spot. We live happily ever after in a chateau. The end.