I must have the kind of face that makes strangers want to tell me the intimate details of their lives. It seems to happen a lot. Today, I had just walked into the beauty salon, exchanged a few pleasantries with my stylist, and "Wham!", the WIDOW WOMAN IN LOVE began telling me about her romance. She and her beau had just gone on their first date--to the casino. Her children don't approve, so she's resolved not to tell them any more about it.
She's talking to me instead:
"He's 74, and he's sooo cute!" gushed the WIDOW WOMAN IN LOVE with her gray head rared back in the hair washing sink.
"That's good," I said, somewhat at a loss as to how to respond. "Does he make your heart go pitter-pat?"
"Oh Lo-ord!" she groaned. "I got butterflies in my stomach, and I cain't sleep at night!" Then she clutched her chest over her heart and gasped, "I don't know if my pacemaker can handle this!"
"Sounds wonderful!" I said, giggling and growing enthusiastic about the agelessness of L-O-V-E.
"So are you going to marry him?" her stylist asked, trying to cut to the chase so that she could commence shampooing.
"Oh, no!" objected the WIDOW WOMAN IN LOVE. I don't want to lose my husband's Social Security!