June 30, 2017:
In his thick-headed arrogant way her husband tried to insist on advising me financially. "You should open a Roth IRA," he said. I told him, I'm not eligible. He said, "No, anyone making less than $90,000 is eligible." I told him, Right, that's why I'm not eligible. It required several rounds of back-and-forth for him to internalize that my income was far, far, far greater than his. Then he was silent the rest of the evening.
He was bald, ugly, utterly self-unaware, entirely unhesitant to use his position as ESL tutor to sexually exploit the Asian women he fetishized. That's how they met. She thought he was cute, which should have been my first clue that she also was not particularly self-aware. Or aware in general for that matter.
They broke up, she got with me, we broke up, she got back with him, they broke up, she asked me to teach her proper sex since "You're the sex expert." They'd never had oral sex, she'd never had an orgasm, he habitually pestered her to give up her ass, which should have been her first clue. With me she liked the tongue-and-finger combo, I taught her how to give blowjobs, she said she liked the taste of semen, but she unmistakably wanted our encounters to be as entirely about her as I was willing to make them, being the sex expert and all. She looked at me like I was evil when one night I had her blow me standing to the side of the bed — and did not reciprocate. I wasn't evil, I was angry over the lack of balance in our relationship. We broke up again, she got back with him again, I don't know if she gave up her ass or not.
She was pretty but she was dumb. It took me a long time to realize I'd given her too much credit for smarts she really didn't have.
We haven't stayed in touch. I'm okay with that.