For fifteen years after my father’s death, my mother dated a man with whom she had a rather cool connection. My sister and I believed that she kept him around mainly to avoid going alone to events attended by couples, perhaps to increase her chances of being invited to such events. At some point, she remarked that she liked having someone “to drive her to things.” This probably meant “to drive her home from things,” as single readers who enjoy a drink or three at social functions may understand.
Eventually my mother’s beau had a health crisis that required the services of a private day nurse, with whom he often lunched at the golf club. At this point he began to see my mother far less, then not at all. Though not heartbroken, my mother was insulted. “If he had paid me $100 a day, I would have been nicer, too,” she said haughtily. Read More →