This is mostly a reflection on how two people from vastly different backgrounds can actually work well together. This is my first posting in Romance, I hope you enjoy it.
It's funny how life changes as we pass through the years. Sitting here reflecting on all that's happened over the past several years, I have finally come to grasp with some realities in my life.
I, Dan Sexton, was the second youngest of six brothers. I grew up in a working class neighborhood in a reasonably stable home. While I loved all five of my brothers, we fought constantly. And I don't mean sniping at each other, I mean fists and elbows. I was often sporting a black eye or a cut lip, but thought nothing of it. My poor mother had tried to reign in the violence, but gave up after my Dad convinced her to "just let them work it out on their own." That's usually exactly what we did. Oddly, my older brothers never bullied us smaller siblings, they just didn't put up with any BS and god help any outsiders that dared mess with any of the Sexton Brothers. My aunt described us as "a pack of wild dogs, always snapping and snarling at each other." Truth be told, it wasn't really that bad.
I joined the Navy right out of high school and spent four years traveling around the world and learning to be an electrician. Then I used the GI Bill at our community college to get my degree in business. I landed a good job with a large commercial electrical contractor. I met and married Donna and we bought a small house in a nice working class neighborhood.
Donna and I loved pro sports, beer, bowling, camping, and sex. Man, did she love sex! Of course I loved it too and so we had a lot of it. For three years she just about wore me out and then, suddenly, she all but ended our sex life. It took me a couple of months but I figured out Donna had decided she loved money too. Lots of money, way more money than I could give her.
Turned out she had met a rich boy and showed him how much she loved sex. He didn't stand a chance, she dumped my poor ass and married him two months later. Funny thing is, I had always just assumed she would dump me, so when it happened, I didn't really care, but I knew I'd miss fucking the energetic Donna.
I floated along in kind of a limbo until I met a University Professor, Carol. Ok, this is confession time. While Carol is attractive, in a well put together, sensible, girl-next-door, type of way, she is not a beauty. A few of my old pals even kinda hinted that a guy with my looks could have done better. What they didn't know, however, was that intellectually, I was way, way, way out of my league. I mean Carol is actually brilliant and I'm, well... average. The combination of brilliant and attractive always turned me on.
Carol was pretty down to earth and never tried to put on an air of superiority. She always spoke in proper English and had impeccable manners. She was very comfortable to be around. I once heard one of our friends describe Carol as, "effortlessly impressive." As I said, she may not be a runway model, but she is definitely way out of my league!
One time she brought home an IQ test. She was reviewing it to see if there were any biases that would distort the scores. When she explained what she was doing, I remarked that I'd never taken an IQ test. A few days later she brought home two tests and suggested we take them together. I scored 116 which I thought was not awful. Carol scored a 168! That put her within a very small upper percentage of very gifted folks.
Without discussing it with Carol, I decided I would try to improve myself and I knew Carol could help me. When I casually mentioned a new interest in art, she gladly took me to museums and exposed me to a new world of art and classical literature. Surprisingly, I liked it all and I learned,... little by little, I learned. I started being more careful with my speech. I stopped using double negatives and saying things like "I seen it" and learned the difference between "implied" and "inferred" and hundreds of other small things that signaled a lack of education.
Carol and I married and we socialized with a small group of her friends. Three PHDs, two double Masters, and a self taught computer genius with an IQ north of 170!... and me, the community college grad. Obviously, one of these is not like the others.
I very much enjoyed being around my new friends. Their insights into world events and human interactions just fascinated me. Our philosophical discussions and the vast array of scholars they quoted always inspired me to read publications I never knew existed. I was like a child sitting with grown ups, I was happy to just absorb some of what was said and tried not to be a distraction.
In all fairness, the group never once acted superior or aloof around me. In fact they often asked my advise about everyday things. They quickly found out I could do simple home projects that completely baffled them, like putting together IKEA furniture, unstopping a toilet, and installing a garage door opener. But still, I knew "one of these is not like the others."
As a wife, Carol was everything I hoped she'd be. She was kind, considerate, and eager in bed. We were very happy. The years rolled by, we had two children and both are "gifted" (So I guess I didn't water down the gene pool too much). Things were going great for us.
One evening we were out with the group when they decided to stop at a BBQ place that had gotten rave reviews. It took me just a few seconds to see it was not the right kind of place for the group, but they didn't seem to notice. We ordered beer and ribs and were having a good time.
One of the guys, Thomas, went to the bar to get more beer and he seemed to be gone longer than necessary. Knowing the bar was a bit rough for my group, I had been on alert and noticed his absence. I excused myself and went looking for Thomas. I quickly found him, backed up against the bar by two hill-jack dudes about a foot taller than Thomas. One of them had a wet sleeve and was yelling at Thomas for spilling beer on him..... Fuck me!
I had tried to hide my rough up bringing from my new friends. They were intellectuals and thought all disagreements could be resolved with open, well reasoned, discussions. In a perfect world, they were right. In a dive bar that served great BBQ?... Not so much.
I slid up next to Thomas and grabbed his arm. I spun him away from the two dudes and shoved him in the direction of our table. "Go check on the ladies, I'll take care of this." He stumbled away and disappeared around the corner. I turned to face the two guys.
"Gentlemen, it seems my clumsy friend has accidentally spilled some beer on you. I'm really sorry that happened, please let me buy both of you another beer."
The two looked at each other, then laughed. The taller of the two said, "I don't want a fucking beer! You let your pussy friend run away so I guess I'll just have to kick your ass instead."
I knew his kind very well. They down a few beers and it makes them mean. Of course they're not so drunk as to pick on anyone their own size. No they look for someone smaller, or as in this case, someone they out number. I smiled at the drunk asshole and sighed, "Well, you could try."
