I finally got a chance to see Joe Millionaire, the much-talked-about reality TV show, when Fox re-ran the first two episodes the other night. If you haven"t heard about it, the show basically scams 20 beautiful women into thinking they have a chance at romance with a man who inherited $50 million. The joke, of course, is that he"s a construction worker who makes $19,000 a year. From the first five minutes, I was hooked. The glamour! The deceit! The cattiness! The back-stabbing! It proves that even the most level-headed person can turn into a razor-taloned harpy when there"s $50 million at stake. It also shows that people are extremely gullible. A smart woman would have seen through the scam after meeting the lunkhead would-be millionaire. Not only is he dumber than a box of small rocks, he has the sophistication level of a knuckle-dragging Neanderthal. Yet the women on the show quickly busied themselves with undercutting the competition and trying to make themselves look good. The show disheartened me for another reason, though, because it may have eliminated any chance I may have at future happiness. For I, too, have been concealing a secret for many years now. In 1990, my great-uncle, Armand Hammer, winner of the Nobel Peace Prize and head of Occidental Petroleum, passed away at the age of 92. As part of his will, it was stipulated that I receive the sum of $100 million in two installments. Half of it arrived in 1995 and the other half will be awarded in 2004, or at the time of my marriage, whichever comes first. This secret has been a heavy burden on me for more than 10 years now and has crippled my social life. How can I fully trust any woman who approaches me? How can I reveal the secret without seeming crass? That"s why I"m using this column to break my years of silence. Like Joe Millionaire, I, too, need someone to share this vast wealth and to make my dreams come true. This may be an outrageous way to do it, but I know of no other way. Everything I"ve tried has failed thus far. For interested applicants, here"s a little bit about me. Despite my tens of millions of dollars, I live very humbly. In fact, there"d be no way to tell from my meager apartment that I"m a millionaire. I prefer to live amidst the middle and lower classes from whence I came. My couch was bought at Thrifty Threads some years ago and shows many signs of wear. Yet the coffee stains and cat urine that have soaked through its cushions, I feel, gives it a majestic character. The mis-matching easy chair is a product of Value City Furniture, a renowned seller of fine items. The chrome standing ashtray was acquired when Q-95 threw it away many years ago. Although I could easily afford the best electronic items, I prefer my 12-year-old Magnavox TV set and my 10-year-old VCR that, despite lacking amenities such as stereo sound and a working remote, is more than sufficient for my needs. My DVD player cost only $55 yet is as good as ones costing five times as much. The vomit stains on the living-room carpet remain not because of any inability or unwillingness to rent a steam cleaner, but because they are souvenirs of an especially exciting evening of entertaining guests. My clothes are purchased at Wal-Mart solely because of an affinity I have with the working-class people of this country. I wear my Faded Glory flannel shirts and jeans with a sense of pride. The Osco brand liquor in my bar is there to dissuade anyone from uncovering the true nature of my financial situation, not because I can"t afford better booze. You could say that my life so far has been a kind of reversal of the plot of Arthur. I pretend to be poor so that I can find the woman of my dreams. I am revealing my wealth reluctantly and only because I see no other way. My attempts at feigning poverty have failed. The female readers who have read this far may well ask what characteristics I seek in a mate. Yet describing those traits is harder than expected. I seek someone who is enthusiastic and good with people; therefore, at least some professional cheerleading experience at the NFL or NBA level is required. And because I am 5-foot-11, my future bride must be at least 6-foot-1 or taller. Since I work in communications, she, too, must have some experience in the media, preferably in the field of modeling. (Please submit portfolio when applying.) Some professional dancing experience is also necessary, since I can"t dance at all. The successful applicant"s resume will include contact information for all of the men"s clubs at which she has danced. There are many other qualities that I seek, qualities which can only be fully appreciated in the course of a personal interview. Words cannot fully describe them or their importance to me. Lastly, she must also have her own source of money. Although my millions will provide a high standard of living, it is important to me that she also be able to help provide for us if need be. The winner will also be able to successfully answer the following riddle: "Did you know they removed the word "gullible" from the dictionary?" If, after reading all of this, you or someone you know is interested in this unique opportunity to meet a real live millionaire, please contact me c/o this newspaper. All applicants will receive my personal attention. Thank you for helping me realize my dreams.