When you’re an accomplished trollop, you either own it or pretend to have a prior engagement during Fleet Week. Mamie and I tried counting our lovers once and it was like we’d dropped a box of toothpicks. We gave up counting when we got down to fun details like, “Remember that guy who idolized you at that convention?”
“Who? The Chew Toy?”
“We were sharing a hotel room. That was the longest breakfast I ever ate.”
“Yeah, thanks for clearing out. Did you know I’d hooked up with him the year before?”
“Maybe. Was I there the year before?”
“The year before, we turned a corner and found Emmy shampooing a bass player in the hotel sink.”
“How did that whole man fit in a hotel sink? I swear he was nothing but broad shoulders and soapy bunny ears.”
“Miracle. Best not to think too much about it. Can’t be re-created in non-convention reality.”
My memory is not great. In fact, if Mamie forgets the last fifteen years it could be argued by almost anyone who is not a blood relation holding Christmas gift receipts that I never lived. She and I have this conversation on at least a weekly basis:
Mamie: We were at this cool place and *this* was going on and that person was doing such-and-such, and this totally unbelievable thing happened next and we were all terrified and you –
Me: Me? I was there?
Mamie: And you did THIS UNIMAGINABLE THING! We evaded capture once again!
Me: I have no recollection of that. Huh! I’m SO interesting!
After the World’s Best Divorce(tm) from my truly wonderful ex-husband, I was sure I’d never get remarried. It’s been more than ten years and now I’ve started to wonder. Fortunately or unfortunately, I have that list of ex-lovers, so no one believes for a minute I’ll be alone very long – or so I learned recently.
Me: Did you know that statistically speaking I stand a better chance of being struck by lightning than I do of getting married again at my age?
Mom: …statistically, yes…
This is somewhat comforting: Mom thinks I’m enough of a harlot to find a new spouse if I want one. She would also prefer this time the spouse not be someone else’s, but she’s picky. Well, it’s a fact you can’t please everyone, because some people are members of your family, and that’s illegal.
*With apologies to Mrs. Betty Bowers, whom I love with my whole black heart.