“Have you ever thought of how the socioeconomic status can be put as a converging logarithmic function in a Cartesian plane; where as we grow older, our socioeconomic status converges to a certain limit or value?” he asks, “hence, slowly diminishing opportunities in life to null.”
“Hm, that’s a good question,” she replies as she leans against the windowpane of her bedroom and stares out the window.
“And leading to quarter life crisis, broken dreams, slowly losing your old pals of your formative years, or at the most, getting anxiety and depression,” he adds while sitting on the edge of her bed.
“So, are you telling me that you’re feeling like you’re approaching the convergence point?” she asks.
“You’re still young.”
“And you’re younger,” he nudges back.
“We are,” she replies with a faint giggle.
A silence follows for a few minutes in the room as they both silently continue pondering in their head.
“But the thing with life, it goes up and down anyways,” she says as she stops leaning and walks half across the room toward him, “ah, if it’s based merely on the status then, yes, it is as what you just claimed it to be.”
“Wait, what could that possibly mean?” he asks.
“The status narrows down the choices at hand. I mean, what else is there other than the bottom-forty, the top-twenty, and the mass middle-forty? And of course the sub-middle and –top here and there, in between. But, all in all, very discrete.”
“Okay, I see where you’re coming from.”
“And here’s the thing: it is not, if it’s based on income. That’s my rebuttal.”
She slightly lifts her chin up in pride.
“That’s fascinating to think about,” he replies in mused.
“Because, if you target 10% increment, the doubling period would be about every five to seven years or so,” she adds, “so, rather exponential—of course, neglecting the inflation.”
“I’m simply amazed with your take on this.”
“Not to mention, the top-twenty region is almost impossibly difficult to breach through bottom-up. Their salary range is really at the far-end of the bell curve, remember honey?”
“That’s a good point there.”
“So yeah, again, it was a good question.”
On the edge of the bed, he cannot help but to admire her a little bit more at the moment—looking at the cute, petite person walking from side to side while lecturing him. At times, she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear mid-lecture and his mind almost goes astray with her captivating charm.
“So, I don’t think you lose your opportunity—at least, not at all,” she says, “don’t you think so?”
“Not before you enlightened me,” he replies, “I mean, I was somehow subconsciously aware of the income part, as opposed to the more generic, bigger-picture status—but now that you mentioned it, the whole idea suddenly was shone at a whole different angle and everything fell into place in a more promising way.”
She jokingly makes the quick final bow like an actress ending her performance on a stage.
“But, I must say,” she adds, “it occurred to me that the way your mathematical analogy diminishes life opportunities on the logarithmic curve really fits in with how the corresponding derivative of the curve would change along the domain axis left-to-right.”
“Tell you what, babe,” he replies as he stands up from her bed and walks closer to her, “with opportunities or with out; all that matters to me is that I want to be with you—forever. I don’t care how many opportunities are stripped away or how many possibilities are taken away. Just that I met you and that’s all I could possibly ask for—the very one opportunity that I would never ever trade anything with.”
She smiles in touched, and her cheeks flush a little bit.
He pulls her closer and she leans in. The pair kisses each other passionately as their limbs and body swiftly entwine at an infinitesimally diminishing distance.