Hot to Trot

A few years ago my divorced, 89 year old mother-in-law, Dair, was asked what she looked for in a man and she replied, "he needs to be clean." After hanging around with octogenarians for a while, I understand. Personal hygiene pretty much falls by the wayside after 80.

Last fall a former co-worker of Dair's got in touch with her after not having seen her in a while. Mr. X (names concealed to protect the innocent) gave her a call and talked about having helped her move several times, the most recent was when she moved back to her hometown in NC. Well, Dair couldn't seem to recall this man and told him so. He finally told her he'd send a photo of himself as a reminder. The photo arrived and showed a tall man with a shock of white hair. The note accompanying the picture stated that the photo was about 15 years old. Dair was delighted and said, he's a "good looking man."

After that, Dair obsessed about getting together with this man, though he lived about an hour from us and she still wasn't sure she remembered him, saying "he claims he helped move me to the mountains." Finally, this week, we made it happen. Days before the meeting, she was asking me to help her pick out what she would wear, and the day before the luncheon, she had to "get up early" so she could take a bath, wash her hair and paint her nails in preparation.

Mr. X was able to convince his daughter to bring him to meet us for lunch at an Atlanta restaurant where Dair and several of her friends enjoy gathering periodically. One of the friends who ususally joins us just happens to be Mr. Y, a fellow American Legion member of Dair's with whom she was once romantically involved. So, here we are, Dair, me, Mr. X and his daughter, Mr. Y, and my husband Karl, enjoying lunch together.

Needless to say, Mr. X did not in any way resemble the photo he sent. He was missing more teeth and had less hair, but he was very nice and genuinely happy to see Dair. She sat next to him and was so excited she never did eat her lunch. She frequently touched his arm or shoulder, and twice I saw her reach up to his head and smooth down his remaining hair! (This is highly unusual because this is not a "touchy-feely" kind of woman - at least not with family members.)

Karl and I have speculated - was she really so enthralled with this "new man in my life" as she called him or was she just trying to get in a little jab at Mr. Y? Guess we'll never know.

On the drive home, Dair said, "he used to be a good looking man," several times. I finally asked her, "Are you disappointed?" "No, not really," she replied. Then a few minutes later she said, "I guess we wasted our time figuring out what to wear."