I once dated a guy named Ted*. [Names changed to protect the innocent. For some reason, the only fake male names I could think of were Marshall and Ted. I really need to broaden my fake male name repertoire for the next column I write that may air any past dating grievances. My reputation is on the line here, and dating a guy named "Ted" does not help my case.]
Anyway, when Ted and I went our separate ways, the first thing he did was demand I give him back his old T-shirts. Weren’t even broken up for 24 hours when he sent me a text, which I assumed would be his mea culpa, realizing he couldn’t live one more second without me. As it turns out, he actually couldn’t live one more second without a few hole-y Goodwill shirts purchased circa 1995. He’d be quite fine without me.
So, I did what any upstanding, honorable girl would do and happily returned his T’s…but not before I completely saturated them in my perfume. I mean, drenched them. I didn’t have much power in this situation, but damnit I DID have the power to waste a liter of expensive Estee Lauder perfume on a guy who was more emotionally attached to a few articles of clothing than to me. The intention was that when he’d pick them up from off his front door step that evening, he’d be instantly and defenselessly inundated with my ubiquitous scent, driving him wild with passion and poignant memories to the point where he’d had to immediately rush over to my house in the middle of the night, grief-stricken and remorseful, begging to have me back. Either that, or he’d just have to do an extra load of laundry that night. EITHER WAY, it would be inconvenient for him in some capacity. So, I’d win. Did it make him miss me? Well, no. Did it make him think my revenge tactics were a bit childish and pathetic and showcased a mild form of emotional instability? Absolutely.
The point is, I conceded and did the moral thing. Now, had it been a 10-carat $785k diamond ring instead of raggedy T-shirts? My morals might have gone MIA for a little bit, as seems to be the case with Mario Williams’ former fiancé, Erin Marzouki.
Buffalo Bills defensive end Mario Williams is suing his ex over the return of the $785,000 engagement ring he gave her in February of 2011. The engagement didn’t even last a year, when Marzouki broke up with Williams last January and left him demanding the 10-carat diamond back.
You guys, $785k is a LOT of money. That’s 78 Nissan sedans. For the amount of money Marzouki is sporting on one dainty, gold-digging little finger, Oprah Winfrey could have bought 78 cars for the screaming, menopausal women in her audience. When your ring qualifies to be used in Oprah analogies, you know you’re dealing with some serious business. It was also reported that, over the course of their relationship, Williams had spent much, much more on Marzouki during that year. The other items included an American Express card she used to pay her living expenses, which she rang up $108,000 in charges in one year, on top of at least $230,000 in various gifts he lavished upon her during that same year.
What I want to know is, why on earth did these two break up? We all know that the bigger the engagement ring, the more the man loves you. (It’s true. It’s been proven statistically, you guys. I saw it written somewhere, I just can't remember where. It was either on CNN, or in my diary.) Okay, so then we all agree he definitely loved her, we know that much for sure. The problem was, Marzouki apparently didn’t feel the same way and never had any intention to marry Williams in the first place, according to reports.
So, if I’m doing the math right (which I’m not, nor do I ever), this woman had had over $1,123,000 spent on her in one year by a pro NFL player who loved her unconditionally, and she wanted the luxury of actually LOVING him back?? Women like her are what give other women a bad rap: spoiled rotten, always wanting more and never appreciate enough. How would she even have the time or energy to fit true love or romance in between shopping sprees on Rodeo Drive? Homegirl needs to lock it up and read a few Nora Roberts novels or watch a few episodes of Days of our Lives to get her fill of passion and meaningful relationships.
What’s more, Williams’ new contract with the Buffalo Bills was one of the most lucrative for a defensive player in NFL history. The contract is for six years, and it’s worth up to $100 million, with $50 million guaranteed. So my first thought is, why even bother fighting for the $785,000 ring? Seems like much more trouble than it’s worth to me. But my second and more telling thought is, Williams must be really, reeeeeally unfunny.
Here we have an extremely well built, decently attractive, powerful, reputable, insanely talented and grossly wealthy pro athlete who’s only getting richer as each day passes, and his fiancée not only wanted just a break, but wanted to call off the whole shebang? It’s simple: Williams is obviously not funny. Clay has said it before and I’ll back it 100%: guys have to be funny for women to find them attractive. If you're funny, you get the girl. I know, it’s tremendously unfair, because then guys like Clay inadvertently have the potential to be some twisted version of a heartthrob and attract former cheerleaders who are even willing to marry him. But I didn’t make the rules, guys, I just report on them. The scary thing is, how many bad flatulence jokes did Williams have to tell before Marzouki just threw her hands up in the air and gave up? How many awkward, uncomfortable silences did she have to endure after he told one of his "funny stories" before she was willing to hand over his AmEx card indefinitely? I'm shuddering at the thought.
So, will the world’s biggest gold-digger make the honorable, moral decision? Will America’s unfunniest man get his $785k diamond ring back? Will my scent ever come out of Ted’s T-shirts? So many questions. I hope we all get the answers we’re looking for soon.
