Shirley is in her 80’s and I have known her for awhile. Today, I’ve taken Lexi to her shop to get a haircut.
‘How are you and the new boyfriend?’ I ask.
I’m remembering when I last saw her, maybe 6 months ago, when she was rhapsodizing over a man she had met on the golf course.
‘Oh, he’s gone!” she says, with a hint of distain.
“I have a new one.’
The former man, she says, was cheap. He made her pay for her own meals and everything else.
“I wasn’t brought up to be that way with a man.”
I’m trying not to gasp but the air gets stuck in my throat. I choke a bit.
Shirley is widowed and has had a number of boyfriends since I have known her in the past year or two.
“This boyfriend,” Shirley is saying, ” has a beautiful 40 ft motor home, lives in alaska part time, and adores me.”
As she washes the suds out of Lexi’s hair, she looks at me and says, “I’m retiring! I’m closing the shop and traveling with this lovely man and my little dog!”
I’m impressed. I haven’t had a boyfriend for years and Shirley, in her 80’s, with all the massive single female competition, always has one.
My Mother also had boyfriends into her very late 80’s. Actually, right up until the time she died.
There was Hoover, a handsome guy my age, a Basque man who lived on a ranch. In her 80’s, he adored my mother and thought her the most beautiful and sexy woman in existence. (more…)