I don't make a habit of confessing, or as they say nowadays, sharing my life story to friends, foes and strangers. Yet, an odd anecdote has sometimes a way of provoking an apropos confession from an interlocutor, as one did this past week during a lunch four of us were having at a Thai restaurant downtown. D. spoke:
"I was dismissed as too low class by my ex's family, all of them doctors, scientists, Ph.Ds, she herself had a master's degree, while I was a self-taught Silicon Valley computer geek whose piles of cash and stock options were just not sufficient to satisfy their yearnings for status and respect. Divorce him, and she did, sayonara! She later married a Ph.D in something or other and they are happily starving in Santa Cruz now.
After my divorce I ran into a woman I had known during my university days, she dropped out before graduating and fell into the bohemian lifestyle among artists, hippies, junkies. We went out for a while before she too dismissed me as too high class, one of the filthy rich, a one percenter.
You can't make everyone happy!"
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