It’s not like I don’t think it’s a good idea; as a matter of fact, I think it’s a great idea. Throughout history, it’s always been an undeniably good idea for a woman to somehow latch onto a man of substance – a man of wealth and property. There are a lot of good reasons for doing so, not the least of which is economic stability.
Perhaps you’ve missed the story of Gertrude Grubb Janeway, who, at the tender age of 17 married a Civil War veteran who was all of eighty-one. They were married ten years. He died in 1937 at the age of 91, and, as his widow and for the next 66 years she collected his monthly government pension until she too died. Not a pot o’ gold surely, but at least a modicum of lifelong economic stability.
Today there are tens of thousands of veterans on disability pensions – leftovers from the Vietnam War. Many are widowers who would surely appreciate help from an able young woman. Of course, there are also many young women struggling alone. In the most general of terms, I heartily approve of a smart young woman marrying an old geezer for the clearly stated purpose of enjoying his disability pension after he croaks.
These May-December marriages seem logistically pragmatic and practical but I personally don’t know what the government (DVA) has to say about all this now.
As for myself, It’s not like I don’t think it’s a good idea; but, as Clint Eastwood said in one of his movies: “A man’s got to know his own limitations.” I know my own limitations and I’ll pass on the whole idea of a pragmatic May-December marriage for the sake of a younger woman collecting a veteran’s pension because well, just one word of Feminist sass and I would be compelled, (no matter how young and pretty and useful around the house she was) to just kick her to the curb.
I would rather die alone – freezing to death in some filthy gutter, than share a common roof (and pension) with a Feminist.
Just so you know: I’ve had many young women attempt to befriend me on Facebook.