I have never admitted this out loud, but marrying for money absolutely sucks and I genuinely would not recommend it to anyone. I married a forty year old man when I was nineteen and we started dating when I was seventeen.

Even saying that now makes me cringe because I can finally see how strange and uncomfortable that dynamic really was. It was gross and it was complicated, but it was my reality at the time. He married me because I was young and beautiful.

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I married him because I thought his money would protect me and give me the life I wanted. I know I had other things to offer. I always did. But deep down I understood the real reason he chose me and it has always sat in a weird spot in my chest.

We have been married for twenty years. We have four kids and at this point we are stable. We built routines and memories and we do have love between us.

There are days when everything feels normal and even peaceful. But if I could go back in time and slap some sense into my teenage self I would do it without thinking. I wish that girl had understood what she was trading for comfort and financial security. I wish she had understood how much emotional debt she was taking on.

Nobody prepares you for the part that comes after the wedding. Nobody explains that when you enter a relationship with such a huge power imbalance you will feel like you owe the other person for the rest of your life.

You owe them for every bill, every vacation, every car, every meal, every decision. It is not just about sex, even though that is part of it. It is in the small things. The things you thought you would always control. What you wear. How you spend your time. Who you talk to. What choices you make for your own future.

He never says it out loud. He never throws it in my face in a dramatic way. But I feel the weight of it every day. I know the unspoken agreement we made. I know what I signed up for without understanding it.

It is a quiet imbalance that shows up at the most random moments. He will suddenly pull rank in a way that makes me feel like the floor has dropped out from under me. It is the kind of emotional imbalance that creates guilt and resentment at the same time. It makes you question your identity and your autonomy and sometimes even your worth.

I do not hate my life. I really do not. I have children I adore and a home that feels safe. I accept that I made choices out of fear and immaturity and survival. I accept that I built this life and that I have to live in it. But I also know I would never want anyone else to learn this lesson the way I did. My oldest daughter is two years younger than I was when I met my husband and I cannot even imagine her being in a situation like mine. It makes me feel protective in a way I never expected.

If anyone is reading this because they think marrying for money will solve their problems, I promise you it creates a different kind of problem that is heavier than you expect. The emotional cost is real. The power imbalance is real. The long term consequences are real. I wish someone had explained that to me in a way I could understand at the time.

This is the truth I have been carrying for two decades.

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