There are relationships in which, at least at the beginning, love is not the main reason for the choice. Security, social standing and the possibility of leaving a difficult life behind may matter. So may the wish to stop worrying about bills, live in a beautiful home and discover opportunities that once seemed far away.
When I think about such situations, my first response is not condemnation. It does not shock me that someone wants a better life and takes that into account when choosing whom to share it with. What troubles me is what can happen afterwards: wanting every advantage of that relationship while treating the person who shares them as an obstacle, someone to deceive while pursuing one's real love story elsewhere.
This is the distinction I would like to explore. Wanting a better life is human. Reducing another human being to the means of obtaining it is something else.
Comfort is not a fault
Couples from the worlds of sport and entertainment readily come to mind: one person very beautiful, the other very wealthy or well known. But a photograph cannot tell us why two people chose each other. A difference in income, age or fame does not prove that love is absent. It would be unfair to turn every unequal pairing into a story of calculation.
Besides, the issue is not confined to famous people, nor does it concern only women. Anyone can seek security through a relationship; anyone can take advantage of another person's trust. What interests me is the behaviour, not assigning the roles of victim and wrongdoer in advance according to gender or wealth.
Nor would I want to romanticise poverty. Someone who has known uncertainty may attach a value to stability that others find hard to understand. Wanting a peaceful home, opportunities for one's children or freedom from counting every expense does not make a person mean-spirited. The question is how they seek that good and how honest they are with the person involved in their choice.
A relationship without being in love can be sincere
I do not believe every story has to begin with overwhelming passion. People may choose each other out of esteem, companionship, affinity or a wish to build something together. Security can matter too. Affection that is initially quiet may deepen over the years and become a lasting love.
That is why I do not necessarily see something wrong even in a relationship chosen mainly for personal advantage, provided it is not founded on deception and both people can understand and accept its nature. It is not the arrangement everyone wants, but we are not all obliged to seek the same story. What must remain is respect for the other person's freedom to choose with sufficient understanding of the relationship being offered.
There is a decisive difference between agreeing to a shared life without being in love and pretending to feel a great love in order to obtain that life. In the first case, there may be an honest understanding, even if it differs from our romantic ideals. In the second, a feeling one does not have is used to gain the trust of someone who truly does.
Wanting the home, but not the person who shares it
What hurts me is the attitude of someone who accepts the home, the journeys, the peace of mind and the opportunities, yet refuses to recognise any value in the person they have chosen to be with. They seek them out when something is needed, tolerate them when they are present and exclude them from the most genuine part of their life.
I think, for example, of someone secretly maintaining a relationship with an ex while promising faithfulness to a new partner. Or someone planning from the start how to gain advantages, telling a love story they have never believed in. I am not referring to cases whose facts I know: I am talking about the behaviour, when such deception exists.
In that situation, the painful image of someone being lured onto a hook comes to mind. But the person deceived is not ridiculous for having trusted. They do not become guilty because they hoped to be loved, or less deserving of compassion because they have money. Their wealth does not make their vulnerability any smaller.
What hurts me is not only the possible financial loss. It is discovering that, while one person was living a relationship, the other was managing an advantage. The same days, the same gestures, perhaps the same words: for one, a shared story; for the other, a strategy.
What I mean when I say: learn to love
When I think “now try to love the person you have chosen”, I do not imagine a feeling that can be switched on at will. I mean a concrete willingness: to stop looking only at what we receive and begin to see the person in front of us. To listen to their story, recognise their vulnerabilities, take an interest in their days and wish them well even when there is nothing in it for us.
If we were initially drawn mainly to the life that person could offer, we can at least look beyond that surface. We can allow ourselves to be known and try to know them. Notice their generosity, but also the fears they conceal; share a concern, remember something that matters to them and be there without waiting for a gift.
Sometimes love grows that way, through esteem and care. Sometimes it does not, and it would be dishonest to promise otherwise. Nobody can manufacture a feeling out of gratitude. But between the love we cannot feel and the deception we choose to maintain, there is a space in which we remain responsible for our behaviour.
Gratitude is not servitude
To me, saying thank you means not taking everything we have received as our due. It means recognising that a person has opened possibilities in our life, shared something and placed their trust in us. Gratitude gives a face to the good we have received: it stops us from treating it as though it had appeared by itself.
It does not mean, however, that someone who offers comfort has bought a partner. Money gives no right to demand love, obedience or the surrender of freedom. “After everything I have done for you” may express genuine hurt, but it must not become a chain. A gift turned into an instrument of control ceases to be generosity.
And care must flow in both directions. The person who has more has the same responsibility to respect, listen and remain loyal. In a shared life, moreover, not everything contributed appears on a bank statement: there is time, presence, daily work and support. I would not want the less wealthy partner to be regarded forever merely as the beneficiary of the other's generosity.
Faithfulness is not the price of the comfort we have received. It is respect for the commitment we have freely made. It is owed to trust, not to wealth; it matters in large homes and small ones alike. We do not have to stay because we feel indebted, but we should not lie because it suits us.
If love does not come, responsibility for the truth remains
Someone may have entered a relationship sincerely and realise, over time, that they cannot live within it. Affection may fade, or the relationship may become harmful. Even someone who has received a great deal retains the right to recognise a mistake and leave. They do not have to repay every benefit to deserve their freedom again.
But leaving and cheating are not the same choice. When it is possible and safe, loyalty asks us to face the relationship and say what is happening, rather than preserve its advantages through pretence. We cannot expect the other person to keep choosing a relationship while hiding precisely the truth that might lead them to choose differently.
Someone facing threats, violence or controlling behaviour has no duty to expose themselves to a confrontation in order to prove gratitude: protecting themselves comes first. That freedom, however, is not an excuse for deliberate deceit by someone who is not seeking safety from danger, but simply a way to have everything without accepting responsibility.
Making someone happy is not a performance
In my invitation to make the other person happy, there is no wish for a convincing performance. False tenderness used to retain privileges would merely be a more sophisticated deception. What I would hope instead is that someone who chooses a shared life brings something real to it: kindness, attention, reliability and a willingness to give as well as receive.
We cannot guarantee anyone's happiness. But we can choose not to dishonour their trust or knowingly sustain an illusion for our own advantage. If we wish to continue that relationship, we can sincerely care about the wellbeing of the person we are with. If we no longer wish to, we can seek the courage and a respectful way to acknowledge it.
The gratitude that matters to me is also visible when there is nothing left to gain. In how we speak of someone who helped us, in the respect with which we face a difficulty and in our ability not to erase the good we received simply because today we want something else.
What I would like to leave my children
My children, it is all right to want a better life. Do not be ashamed to seek security, and do not think that financial hardship has to make love nobler. But when you choose a person, look honestly within yourselves: do you want to share life with them, or do you want only what they give you access to?
If someone opens a door for you, do not forget the person once you have stepped inside. Get to know them, respect them and try to care for them for who they are. And if you are the one opening that door, do not imagine you can keep someone by locking it: what truly matters in a relationship must be given freely.
A better life should make us more capable of love, not more skilful at taking advantage. Desire the good a person can bring into your life, but never forget to wish that person well too.