When I was 14 By Laurie Lindemeier

When I was 14 I listened to the Hall & Oates song “You’re a rich girl” over and over again and sang along with it in the parlor of our farm home. I had a 45 of it and belted out the lyrics and with special emphasis on the word “bitch” in the lyrics. My mom overheard me. 

“You’ll only like listening to that song so you can say that word. It’s not nice.”

“It’s part of the lyrics Mom, it’s no big deal!”

Why did I really like the song so much? I think it was because the character was the opposite of me. I felt like I was yelling it at all those well-to-do town girls who seemed to get everything they wanted. In the song the girl can go too far because her rich old man will take care of everything. She can get away with anything because she knows it doesn’t matter anyway. 

That idea was scandalous to me. Being lose. Doing whatever I wanted with any guy. I always thought I’d only date the man I’d marry, and it’d be for love and not for money. That turned out to be true. In fact, when I was 18 I married a guy whom I’d started dating when I was 14. He was the lead guitar player in a small-town rock back that emulated the Stones, the Cars and the Doors.

The marriage lasted until he decided he like a band groupie and his freedom to rock and roll with whomever more than he liked being married to me. Did I learn from this? Maybe. Well, not sure. 

Eight years later after finishing my English degree and doing a short stint as a nanny in Germany, I moved in with an army brat, and after two years, married him. He turned out to be a horrendous drinker and on the opposite side of my values and viewpoints. However, it took me 15 years, and two children later to get the courage to divorce him. He never was rich, but he thought he was. We declared bankruptcy a few months before I served him with the divorce papers. I’ve been free for ten years now and can sing, “It’s a bitch girl,” all I want. I still believe money can’t buy love.