Why did Daisy leave Gatsby for Tom?

Ah, "The Great Gatsby," F. Scott Fitzgerald's magnum opus that brilliantly encapsulates the roaring '20s, an era of indulgence, glamour, and one might say, utterly fabulous economic inequality. So grab your finest attire and a glass of champagne, as we delve into the curious case of Daisy Buchanan's unsatisfying affair with Jay Gatsby, and unravel the subtle (and not so subtle) distinctions between old money and new money.

To put it simply, Daisy Buchanan is a magnificent symbol of America's elite - the embodiment of wealth, beauty, and shallowness. Her decision to dump Jay Gatsby, a self-made millionaire, is quite the story. You see, Gatsby's fortune is derived from the bootlegging business, which in the '20s, was akin to running a lemonade stand, but with a slightly more criminal twist. And while we all know money can't buy happiness, it's still fascinating to watch Gatsby give it the old college try.

Daisy, on the other hand, is old money - the kind of wealth that's been handed down through generations, like a treasured family heirloom or a particularly stubborn case of gout. Old money has this magical aura of sophistication, as though the mere act of inheriting vast sums of cash imbues one with a profound understanding of French impressionism and the ability to hold a champagne glass just so.

But wait, there's more! The old money crew, in their infinite wisdom, possess an unspoken code: Do not fraternize with the nouveau riche. It's like a secret club, but instead of a secret handshake, they have trust funds and an unhealthy obsession with polo. Gatsby, of course, doesn't make the cut. While his parties are the stuff of legend, his new money status renders him, in the eyes of Daisy and her ilk, about as desirable as a wet sock.

And so, our dear Daisy leaves Gatsby, choosing the comforting familiarity of her philandering, old money husband Tom Buchanan. Because, let's be honest, who would want a dashing, hopelessly devoted bootlegger when you can have a cheating, condescending spouse with a family pedigree that would make the Rockefellers swoon?

As we raise a toast to the end of this melodramatic love affair, let us not forget the profound lesson Fitzgerald's tale imparts on us mere mortals: Money may not buy happiness, but it does buy a front-row seat to some truly entertaining class warfare.