An Anti-materialist

“No amount of wealth has ever bought back a second of time.” - A poor person, probably. 

She was dating some rich schmuck.

Some suit-wearing, fancy pants fart, with a stuffy-looking mustache.

She told him that he was perfect.

She admired his career. (Which he bought)

She admired his wealth. (Which he inherited.) 

She admired his appearance. (Which high quality testosterone, adderall and Ozempic sculpted.)

She complimented his suit. (Stupid friggin suit.)

She said that she loved his house. (Which his Grandpa, who he had hated, bought 75 years ago.)

She said she appreciated his manners. (But really, she was just used to me and my manners, and not stuffy asshole’s.)

She told him that whenever he reaches for the check to pay for it without hesitation, she gets hot for him. 

. . .

Yes, yes, yes, my girl told him all these very snobby American things. 

You see,

Two months ago, my car screeched to a halt on the highway, and she screamed at me about money. 

She told me she couldn’t live like this anymore. 

She said that I needed to make more money. 

She yelled at me, tears in her eyes, as she hit the dashboard with her fist. 

. . . I told her that I was trying. 

. . . I told her that it was hard. 

My eyes started to leak fluid. 

. . . I said that I have to chase my passions, and if she didn’t like that, then she should go chase a materialist instead. 

She slammed my car door behind her. 

I tried to start my car but it stalled. Smoke came out of the engine. I sat on the curve, with my head in my hands, until my buddy showed up with his truck to give me a tow.

I couldn’t afford a tow truck. 

-CH 8/8/25