Shoulda

I'm reading Moll Flanders, in which the main character has had three husbands before page 100, and is making increasingly more sketchy choices as the narrative moves forward: crime, prostitution, who knows what she'll get up to next, there's nearly a hundred more pages of this stuff.

I find it fascinating that a) the book was written in 1720ish, and is pretty frank about how much she has to sleep around, though not entirely graphic, and also, b) that Moll's basic defense is simple - she is driven to all these extremes to stave off poverty.  She says, over and over, if she could have worked for enough money to support herself, none of this would have been necessary.  I think in terms of the 18th century, that is absolutely fair enough.

But I look at my own life, and the questionable choices I have made/continue to make, and what drives me to those conclusions?  Nothing so immediate and supportable as survival.  Nope.  It keeps coming back to vanity.  I want to be important, prized, valuable, funny, attractive.  I want to be right.

I could use a self-importance diet.  I'll think about that and get back to you.