Mr. Moneybags just isn’t Mr. Right

I went out with a multimillionaire, I found him boring, and I’m not going out with him again. My friends are outraged.

“I can’t believe you rejected a multimillionaire. Why, Sam, why?” my pal Carolyn asked. “Did we not agree that someone had to be the rich wife? Why not grab it and get your silly rocks and baubles?”

I think Carolyn was thinking more of her silly rocks and baubles, the ones she hoped she’d be receiving from me on her birthdays after I sold myself into wealthy wedded slavery.

“I had a good dinner. Let’s leave it at that,” I told Carolyn. She pouted. “You are so selfish,” she said.

“Carolyn and I are clearly of the same mind. And you’re out of yours!” my pal Eve chimed in. “I bet he wouldn’t demand much of you in exchange for his money. Think of the shopping sprees, the first-class trips, the penthouse in Manhattan and summer house in Nantucket. You could use ‘winter’ as a verb. But noooooooooo....”

“The summer house is in the Hamptons, actually,” I informed her. “And he winters in St. Croix. See, I can already use it as a verb.”

“Arrrrgh!” Eve yelled, slapping her forehead. “Do you have any idea what a house in the Hamptons costs?”

“What do you care?” I asked her. “You don’t even play tennis.”

My friend Ryanne, a.k.a. the Korean Hellion, came to my defense. “Sam doesn’t have to marry a multimillionaire if she doesn’t want to.”

“That’s right!” I said.

“But Sam, really, why don’t you want to?” Ryanne asked.

“Because he is dull and too well-groomed and he has Gordon Gecko hair and reads crappy novels,” I said.

“OK, but surely you could put up with that for six months?” Eve suggested.

“I don’t think I could get much if I was only married for six months,” I said.

“Yeah, only about 3 mil!” Eve insisted.

“Oh, definitely,” Carolyn said. “Now Sam, really, you must think of the greatest good for the greatest number. You are not a very good citizen. I want you to doll yourself up and go knock on that nice multimillionaire’s door and apologize.”

“Suck it up, Sam,” Eve said.

“Go team!” Ryanne said.

The peer pressure was really getting to me, and my defense was beginning to appear weak. I had to come up with something drastic. And by “come up with,” I mean make something up.

“He had two thumbs on one hand,” I said.

“What?!” Carolyn shrieked.

“Surely with all that money he could get it removed,” Eve said.

“He says it’s part of him and he’s used to it,” I said.

“Sam, I think maybe you’re being just a little bit shallow ... ,” Carolyn began.

“Guy’s got an extra thumb. Deal breaker!” Ryanne insisted.

Thus, I escaped the multi-phalanged clutches of Mr. Goldfinger.

Samantha Bonar can be reached at samantha. bonar@latimes.com.