Insecurities II
I'm goofy. Goofy and immature. Well, she never said that, but she gave me that look-the one that said, 'I only go out with guys that can go to dinners without having to serve' and 'you got robbed of all culture when you were in Brooklyn.'
She's not an elitist-she's so perfect that its kinda ridiculous. She's just looking out for her best interests, and I am not with 'em. I'm too.ethnic? I don't even know anymore, but I know I don't fit in this posh, country club world that I'm holed up in.
I love it here, and I don't want to go back to Pitken Avenue. I mean, it's real good for Sam to be here, and it's good for Mona and Jonathon. They need us to keep them grounded in the real world.
Ang couldn't do dinner or the housework if her life depended on it, because despite her perfection, she was made for more than making meals and doing laundry-she's meant to be a hotshot exec, making and breaking deals on her gut instinct.
I'm meant to be making quiches and serving them to her clients. That's the world that we live in. That's our home, almost.
I don't mind doing the cooking. I almost enjoy it. And I don't mind doing the work around the house. I'm good at it.
But I wish I was more than that. I wish I could do the things that Michael did-have a career and be someone better. He was able to dine with those posh people and still communicate with Jonathon.
Jonathon worships his father, and why not? He's a world class explorer, and he's always out finding new things. I'm always finding new things, but in Jonathon's pockets on his laundry days.
And Michael and Angela had a passionate relationship-they were so in love with each other. It was professional ambition that screwed them. It was Michael's need to be where the lizards are, and Angela's drive to be in advertising that separated them. And who could fault them? Professional drive has never been bad before, why start now?
I can't be a part of that world-not with my laundry days and scout meetings, PTA and trying to keep up with the rest of the family.
I'm just not the right type of man for her.
I'm goofy. Goofy and immature. Well, she never said that, but she gave me that look-the one that said, 'I only go out with guys that can go to dinners without having to serve' and 'you got robbed of all culture when you were in Brooklyn.'
She's not an elitist-she's so perfect that its kinda ridiculous. She's just looking out for her best interests, and I am not with 'em. I'm too.ethnic? I don't even know anymore, but I know I don't fit in this posh, country club world that I'm holed up in.
I love it here, and I don't want to go back to Pitken Avenue. I mean, it's real good for Sam to be here, and it's good for Mona and Jonathon. They need us to keep them grounded in the real world.
Ang couldn't do dinner or the housework if her life depended on it, because despite her perfection, she was made for more than making meals and doing laundry-she's meant to be a hotshot exec, making and breaking deals on her gut instinct.
I'm meant to be making quiches and serving them to her clients. That's the world that we live in. That's our home, almost.
I don't mind doing the cooking. I almost enjoy it. And I don't mind doing the work around the house. I'm good at it.
But I wish I was more than that. I wish I could do the things that Michael did-have a career and be someone better. He was able to dine with those posh people and still communicate with Jonathon.
Jonathon worships his father, and why not? He's a world class explorer, and he's always out finding new things. I'm always finding new things, but in Jonathon's pockets on his laundry days.
And Michael and Angela had a passionate relationship-they were so in love with each other. It was professional ambition that screwed them. It was Michael's need to be where the lizards are, and Angela's drive to be in advertising that separated them. And who could fault them? Professional drive has never been bad before, why start now?
I can't be a part of that world-not with my laundry days and scout meetings, PTA and trying to keep up with the rest of the family.
I'm just not the right type of man for her.