Big Star – “O My Soul,”
I received a dose of reality recently. I met a girl at the bar. She’s 28, a graduate of Cornell and New York University. She’s a teacher at a nearby school. Gorgeous girl, smart clearly. What is she doing talking to my clearly out-of-her-league ass?
I’m an incredible pessimist (all the time.) Just two months ago I was getting black out drunk four nights of the week. Four months ago I received a blowjob from a woman I knew for less than ten seconds. Seven months ago I took a shit at five in the morning at a train station for the fuck of it. Naturally I can’t understand what I bring to the table with any girl besides hard dick and the occasional joke on the off chance she finds humor in my antics (chances are, she probably doesn’t.) That’s not some braggadocio bullshit, either. Actually, it’s probably a bit pathetic. Why I’m a pessimist in this situation should come as no surprise considering the girl is an Ivy League scholar. Everything is new. It sounds cliché. Feels it too.
In university everyone sits on an even playing field – kind of. Your status may be different. Credentials too. But years of school don’t discriminate through semantics. For better or worse, the person you are is what’s going to get a girl home at night. For better or worse that still applies post-graduation. It’s just your money has to do some talking as well.
For five years I never cared about status. I loathed it, actually. Post-grad marks the entry to status.
So where do you stand in the grand scheme of things? What does your bank account read? How’s your car? You want a girlfriend? You better have money. Be well off. You live with your parents? When do you move? You work for that shitty paper? You make $25,000 a year – I make twice that! Why would I lower myself to associate/love/participate in activities with such a dope?
Think it doesn’t matter? Take my friend Caroline into account. She was accepted into UConn’s medical school this past year. In a few years, she’ll be making $100,000. Her boyfriend majored in journalism. Let’s say they’re together when she’s out of school and she’s making (probably) four times what he makes. Who would burn her at the stake for ditching the nigga like a bucket of day old McDoubles?
As a man it’s de-masculinating to the fullest extent. It’s one thing to make what your girl makes. It’s fine to make a bit less. For any man to make $75,000 less than their girl feels fucking pathetic. I don’t care who you are.
It’s crazy to think that after so many years of rejecting college as a means to a well-paying job that it’s finally struck home. What am I here for and what have I really accomplished in 18 years of school?
You’d like to think money doesn’t matter. Or status. But it does. And it fucking sucks.