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September 2, 2009
The Wealthy Young Men Who Make Me Sick
I always dread coming home to my parents' house for dinner. No matter what I do, my mom thinks that I could have done better. When I was little, she would complain that I never earned enough gold stars like the other boys in our class. When I was in college, she would complain that I should follow in my father's footsteps and study law instead of journalism. Things have gotten worse now that I'm working. She complains that I'm not earning enough money because I chose to become a writer instead of a lawyer. The cherry on top? She often compares me to some of the book club ladies' sons because they're working as doctors, lawyers or whatever. I have asked her to stop comparing me to those wealthy young men, but I'm usually tipsy every time she starts nagging me. Alcohol makes me a little hard of hearing and unfocused, so it's difficult to get my point across when I need to tell her that I'm not really into wealthy dating.
Mary, one of my classmates from back in high school, dated this guy named Armen. He's the kind of guy my mom is always comparing me with and I admit I do feel jealous of him sometimes. He's good-looking, drives a Porsche, lives in a posh apartment and he's a lawyer. Anyway, Mary once told me a story about him, which made me feel good about myself. Armen may be extremely wealthy and he may know how to speak four different languages, but he doesn't know what women want.
Mary once went out of her way and worked for four hours preparing a meal for Armen. As soon as Armen arrived, he told her to get dressed because they were going to have dinner with a client of his. She told him that she had prepared him dinner and all he said was that he'd spent months trying to woo this client and he was in the mood for some caviar and not homemade pasta.
Mary told me another story where she and Armen were making love when his phone suddenly rang. As soon as his phone started to ring, he quickly removed himself off of her and started talking to the person on the phone. It turned out it was a client of his, so she just left while he was busy on the phone. Mary and I laughed at that story and she told me that I may not be what my mother wants to me to be, but at least people like me.
Hopefully my mother doesn't nag me about how much I'm earning next time I'm home for dinner. I may not be a wealthy male like Armen or some of those pompous, wealthy young men she's constantly comparing me to, but at least I have a lot of great friends who make me wealthy in spirit. That way, I can honestly say that I'm one guy who is truly wealthy and educated.
Posted by regis at September 2, 2009 2:01 AM
