On the night I made the mistake, I had no idea I was doing anything wrong. I was clueless. Even arrogant. Within five or six years, though, I had grown enough — and learned enough about myself — that I had to apologize to someone for that night.
It was about 15 years ago. I was getting to know a woman who I’d recently met. We would go on to date seriously and almost marry. But on that night, we were still getting to know each other. She had graduated from college with an education degree and was about to start teaching. But I thought she was too smart and too capable for teaching school.
I don’t remember how I worded it, but I let her know that I thought she would be wasting herself if that’s what she did with her life. I let her know that she was capable of far more than that — and I subtly made it clear that I would prefer she did something more “impressive.”
I was more concerned that night with what I wanted her to be than with what she wanted. My mind was focused on how her choice would reflect on me. I was blind to my error at the time, but I’m ashamed of it now.

If abortion is just simple choice, why is killing babies for gender bad?
I’m not certain artists ever get to be themselves when they perform
Trust and spontaneous order don’t require heavy hand of the state
As we enjoyed the sunset together, language and borders didn’t matter
Taking Donald Trump seriously means ‘Idiocracy’ is already here
The pounding rain from the storm brought me warmth, light and love
Attaining excellence may require some time in painful mediocrity
Self-compassion is difficult when harsh inner judge condemns you
You can’t see inside my heart, but my words invite you to know me