Not what we have but what we enjoy constitutes our abundance. —Epicurus
Dear Nephew,
A new city called for new experiences, so I decided to try online dating where I met Yvette. With her second email, she suggested we meet at the mall. This was refreshing to say the least. I had tried online dating before, which meant endless emailing back and forth while planning to meet in the unknown future. After 6 months of emailing, when the time to meet in person finally came, the girl would be nothing like her pictures and it would be miserable. Six months wasted. I was glad Yvette wanted to meet immediately. We hit it off right away after meeting at the mall and had a relationship that lasted for four months. She was taller than me (which I liked) and beautiful. We went dancing at a club the first date, something that really turned her on. She put her elbows around my neck, her eyes got serious with her mouth slightly open, and she stared into my eyes intensely. We went to my apartment afterwards, still feeling the excitement of the moment, and with a smile she began kissing me. I cut the moment off because things were getting heated really quickly, and we had just met! After talking, I drove her back in disbelief. Here was a beautiful, exciting chick—beautiful tattoos on her back and left thigh—quite taller than me, and a gorgeous body. She had experimented with drugs in high school, but was off them and became quite religious, trying her best to live life as a christian. I called her the next day and she mentioned how much she appreciated me not taking advantage of how turned on she was. “A man that can dance has a natural advantage,” she said. She was over the moon, and it showed. Everything was going well, but about a month into the relationship, I noticed I didn’t know where she worked. She hid from me that she was a janitor and came from a very poor family. We are talking about real poverty. She grew up without a shower in her house, only taking baths; the first shower she ever took was during her late teens, and she remembered how awesome the experience was. She was afraid that I would think less of her, but her fears were misplaced. I admired her very much for her work ethic and how far she’d come. I’d never met someone from a rural area of the U.S. who had grown up in such poverty. While her family was poor materially, they were rich in love. Hanging out with them was wonderful. We played games, were silly, talked about anything and everything, went to the lake… it was a lovely family. My favorite game was “the ax game,” where we would throw axes at a wooden bullseye on a tree. Going to the lake with her family was great too. She and her sisters were all gorgeous. It was like hanging out with bubbly models in bikinis who were kind, loving towards everyone around them, and uninhibited conversationalists. The first time driving back from the lake, Yvette changed into her underwear under her shirt sitting on the passenger seat in my car as quickly as she could. I’ll never forget her giggling while she looked at me with a look that said, “what?” and “did you like that?” at the same time. Unfortunately, I could not get emotionally close to her. I was still missing Billie. I missed how well-educated, well-traveled, and well-read Billie was. I also felt guilty because four months into the relationship I started feeling superior to Yvette, even though I didn’t want to. I had finished two Masters degrees and was completing my doctorate. She had a high school diploma. I missed discussing issues that required study and travel to understand. Eventually, I avoided certain subjects to preserve the harmony we had, which I loved. I knew that I wanted more than just a beautiful, fun girl. I also wanted to discuss travel, food, political topics, denominational and religious differences, or other subjects of no interest to her. The tipping point came when we were reading a book together. It was her turn to read and she came to a number. It was 16,428 if I recall correctly. She came to the number and stopped. Instead of pronouncing it, she said, “one, six, four, two, eight.” I reflexively uttered a quick, glottal sound in surprise, not knowing what to say. What kind of a high school system graduates students unfamiliar with numbers? She was a really smart woman, so it was clearly not completely her failing. I told her to repeat after me, which she did, and we read the number. “Not much math is needed to balance a checkbook,” she explained, and we moved on with the reading. Even though I didn’t make it a big deal, at that moment I decided to break up with her. I met her at her second-story apartment and sat down in her kitchen. It was a rather quick conversation where I told her I really liked her, but needed to see other people. I still wasn’t over somebody (thinking of Billie) and it wasn't fair to her. She became distraught. After a bewildered look she gasped “why?!” and cried. In anger she blurted out “but I love you!!” I will never forget her expression of anger and sadness. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I was disappointed in myself. I was going to miss her excitement and flirty energy. Years later I learned that Yvette pursued an art major in college. Looking back, I did the wrong thing. Witty sophistication can be learned, but there are more important things that can’t be—kindness, flirtatiousness, a love of life. I ignored all that because she couldn’t read a number and I missed a woman that made me miserable. What was wrong with me? Your affectionate uncle, Tio Edwin.