At My Own Wedding, My Dad Took The Microphone, Said: “Raise Your Glass To The Daughter Who Finally Found Someone Desperate Enough To Marry Her.” People Laughed. My Fiancé Didn’t. He Opened A Video On The Projector And Said: “Let’s Talk About What You Did Instead”

I graduated summa cum laude from UC Berkeley—top of my class, Dean’s List every semester. My father didn’t come to my graduation. He said he had an “important meeting.” I found out later, through a Facebook post my aunt accidentally liked, that he was playing golf at his country club that same afternoon.

When Derek graduated with his C average, Dad threw a party, hired a band, invited fifty people, gave a speech about the future of Foster Motors.

When I graduated with honors from one of the best public universities in the country, I got a text message.

Congrats. Don’t forget to send thank you cards to your relatives.

That was the first sign I should have paid attention to.

The second sign came with a price tag of $47,000.

$487. That’s how much I pay every month for my student loans. Have been paying since I was twenty-two. Will keep paying until I’m thirty-two, if I’m lucky and nothing goes wrong.

$52,000 in total debt for a degree my family could have easily afforded.

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