"I think I really like this guy," I remember telling my friend Stacey several years ago.
I was in my early thirties, new to a new city and became friends with a circle of women who measured a man by his net worth, which was far different than the success criteria that mattered most to me.
"He's a social worker," I replied with a smile, "and works at a not for profit, helping street kids in Harlem." To me this showcase of goodwill was a dreamy attribute, but to my friend Stacey it set off alarm bells.
"Get over it," she said in a stern voice, adding "this man won't even be able to afford a plane ticket to visit your family, what are you thinking?"
I'll tell you what I was thinking, because I am not an idiot. I met a man with a good heart and a wonderful career who worked as hard as any of the finance schmucks I'd dated. What's more is that he treated me with respect and was not threatened by my insane work schedule, career successes or need for independence. For
