I am so rich. Goodness, gracious. My, my, my. I am so, very, very wealthy. How many dollars do I have? That's a question only my team of ten fat accountants can answer, because they have golden calculators which I bought for them with my money. And what is on those golden calculators? Numbers. And those numbers equal the dollars in my bank accounts, which are huge.

I have many vehicles which I use to travel across the world and to many exotic destinations where most people cannot go, because they are so poor. They have very little in dollars, but I, myself, I have very many dollars. Also, I am sexy for a man. I like to think that if I was a woman, I would be a playboy model. But since I am a man I am like the opposite of all that, the man version.

In my vehicles I have stored many bottles of rare, delicious wines. These wines are hundreds of years old and covered in dust and cobwebs, which means that they are the most delicious kind, and that they were grown from grapes which were so succulent and juicy that the poor grape-pickers of France wanted to eat them right then and there. But they were whipped, by my shift-leader vintner, who makes sure that the best grapes in my vineyard go only into the wine. That's right, my great grandfather, who was also rich, owned the vineyard where this wine was made. And it's really strong too, it can get you wasted quickly.

I am a big time gamer in the real estate market. I speculate and consolidate my wins and losses into pure profit, keeping my blue chips in the black, playing the lady stock market, teasing and tempting her, always with my eyes on the wall street journals and calling my broker on my diamond plated iphone, which I have the most expensive plan of. I call Steve Jobs on it, and when he answers, I'm like, "Who are you? I don't know who you are because I am so rich and cool, and only nerds know who you are."

Then I hang up on him and laugh, lighting a big fat stogie with $300 dollars cash, which I just happened to have in my pocket because it's chump change to me.

I ask the hobo if he would rather have booze or money to buy booze. If he says he wants the money, I don't give it to him because I know he'll buy booze with it. But if he says he wants the booze, I give him the money because I value honesty, even among lying hobos.

You may be asking yourself at this point, why is this rich man posting on a message board when he can have any woman he wants at any time he wants her, just by showing her how much money he has in his shoe? The answer is that I want to date someone who doesn't know that I am rich. I want to be anonymous. Only when we have fallen in love will I reveal to you that I am rich. That is why we must meet through this message board.