THE MANY MARRIAGES OF M.

　
My long-time friend Margaret was coming for another visit. I was taking her as my guest to one of the Celtic Society luncheons. This was late in 2002 and they still had live entertainment. Later, they featured what their newsletter described as, "Our engrossing speaker of the month." Or as I call it, "Their comatosing speaker of the month."

Anyway, Celtic dancers would be performing. Since Margaret had been a dancer in her youth I thought she might enjoy it.

"Am I going to see that ex-boyfriend of yours? The one who brought his mom on all your dates." She snickered. "That is so funny! If he had gotten fresh with you his mother would probably have slapped him."

"No," I said. "He and his little cuckoo clan ceased attending after we broke up. Maybe they were embarrassed. Or at least they should have been! Nuts to them. I wish you lived closer, so you could join."

"No thank you!" she exclaimed. "My 1st husband was Scottish. He used to get drunk, then beat me black and blue!"

"What, another one?! Who is this guy, now?" I was starting to get confused. "I always assumed the husband who hit you before Fred was the controlling German guy!"

"No, Klaus was just bossy," she replied. "Sean the Scott was a singer. We met back when I was dancing professionally. I married him because I fell in love with his voice. It was enrapturing!"

My mouth dropped. "Every time I see you of late I hear of a different husband! Are there any more you plan to spring on me?"

"No." She sighed. "Just 4. Jim, my 3rd would have been my husband for life had he not died from that heart attack."

"For decades, I thought Fred had been your only husband!" I said. "Fred the doctor. Since moving to Vero I've leaned about all these other guys and divorces."

"Well I was embarrassed," she replied. "I was raised strictly during a different era. And a divorced woman was frowned upon."

"Fred seems to be the one who made the most lasting impression," I pointed out. "You've certainly been the most vocal about him."

"He hurt me the most deeply," she murmured.

"But he's part of your past, now," I reminded her. "You really need to let go."

"See these." She tilted her head to reveal gorgeous topaz earrings. "They're from his new wife Mitzi. She wants a friendship with me, but I don't want one with her!"

"But you'll accept her gifts," I retorted. "She's probably just trying to keep things civil," I said. "Remember, she's not the woman who broke up your marriage! She came later. So cut her some slack!"

"Still, I don't want to be friends with the woman who is sleeping with my husband!" Margaret snapped. "She's the one now savoring the lifestyle we enjoyed together!... After Fred's nurse went back to her husband, I thought he would return to me."

"I'd never want a man back who slugged me," I declared with an indignant sniff.

"Fred only did that once, unlike Sean," she admitted. "Otherwise we had a marvelous life."

"Men only get meaner with age," I asserted. "That was sure true of my father."

"The period after our divorce was the worst in my life." She grimaced.

"Yes, I remember. That's when we 1st met." I recalled it vividly.

"Oh I've had marriage proposals since then. But I just wasn't feeling it. One guy told me it would be wise to combine our assets." She frowned.

"How romantic," I replied. "But you can't fault him for being practical. Some people need to wed for financial reasons. That's why others keep telling me to get married. But I'm just not wired for it...The only way I could ever have a husband is if the guy lived in another town. And came to visit once a month! -- To fix things around the house. Then take me out to dinner."

"What about sex?" she was curious to know.

"He'd have to get a girlfriend on the side just like my father," I told her.

She chortled and gave me a playful slap on the arm. "It's ironic." She sighed. "I've always dreaded the thought of being alone. Now that I am old and alone, I feel freer. I do enjoy my life! I must admit that. I can spend my time doing exactly what I want. No one is around to bother me."

"Right on, sister!' I said. "You're preaching to the choir."