FOR BROKEN-HEARTED WOMEN WHO SUFFER TOO MUCH

On television, I watch the famous, matinee idol, now pudgy ex BF of my pretty Yoga teacher friend and see how he's fat as a pig and indulgent at the table. I know that this ex movie star is unhappy in his very soul. He dropped my spiritual, new age friend to marry some rich, blonde socialite. Probably a good career move but one that doesn't feed the porker's heart. I know that nobody could eat that much if his inner heart were full and joyous with a new bride.

I actually saw the famous man's TV bio  It seems he was a sociopath as a little boy. His family suffered greatly with the little skunk. He painted his mother's couch cushions, defaced them all and he was like 8 yrs old and easily knew it was a horrific act. He hid his work, turned the cushions upside down. THE LITTLE PUFF ADDER! There is great rage against woman shown by his destroying his mother's fine, beautiful sofa cushions. The pride of her living room!

So I tell my friend who's still weeping, a year later, "honey, you're well outta there." She doesn't believe it. I remind her how his third wife, the one my friend actually knew, drank herself unconscious and fell off a cliff and died. Some kinda of problem there too if she drank while on her honeymoon. That was no accident. A woman drinking herself to insensate state and walking to edge of a cliff. So I told my weepy gal pal to thank God that this monster had passed her by.
My friend (I tell her,) was too real, too passionate, too in the moment to be taken by a counterfeit heart that passed bad checks every few minutes. Her sobbing stops. She asks how I am. I clearly see that she's wondering how she'll be when she's sixty and alone like me. And that she's worried about it. I say truthfully. "FINE!" All women at 61 are right as rain. the bad stuff of the passions and heart failing are past the bad stuff of the body failing way ahead.

Sixty is a kind of island of rejoicing in a sea of woes I have come to a firm conclusion. We should teach all our daughters to regard falling in love with a man exactly as they should regard getting anthrax. DON'T EVEN HANDLE THE ENVELOPE it comes in!

And to regard marriage as a dubious deal and to hear all petitioners the way a bank would hear out an applicant for a loan. Checking all previous credit references carefully to catch sight of some noxious trend.