So, she, Marilyn, the floozie Marilyn, not my cousin Marilyn (pay attention!) called my dad and called and called and called my dad, and said she was sooo sorry, said she’d make it up to him…. and picked him up yesterday and took him to San Clemente. Cod only knows what they did together. He says he had fun.
Extreme Geriatric Sex.
He’s 88, nearly 89. She’s 72. The idea that they might be having sex is not as horrifying as I… expected the thought to be. It’s kind of amusing that he thinks he’s such hot stuff. He really thinks he’s a ladies’ man, he really does. His father would be shocked, his grandfather would laugh.
This is my great grandfather who was so vain about his looks and fancied himself so attractive to the ladies that he lied about his age and made up stories about being a wealthy oil man from Texas. He was sued for “heart’s balm” aka “breach of promise” when he was 82. It made the newspapers, much to his son’s (my grandfather’s) shame, and much to our raucous delight. My grandmother thought it was shameful, but she kept the clippings anyway. The acorn may not fall far from the tree, but I’ve noticed that this Bad Boy Behavior seems to skip a generation.
If Dad wants to marry the floozie, fine; I hope I am wrong about her. I really do. I want him to be happy. My problem with her is that I think she wants his money and doesn’t realize that he may outlive her even though he’s 16 years older than she.
Wouldn’t that be a bitch, to marry an old coot for his money and have him outlive you? Not that Dad’s an old coot… well, maybe a bit of an old coot. He is an emotional bully, and she is very prissy. I don’t think the combination sounds so very good, and I think that’s why they keep breaking up. I’ve known teenagers with less complicated love lives.
Dad and my sister have been looking for a house to live in together. They are not shopping for the house together, because that would be logical and rational. Dad is going out with his realtor, my sister with hers. In the meantime, she is fretting about selling her place, says she wants to keep it and rent it out but really can’t afford to do that, but hasn’t done a thing to make it either salable or rentable. The place is like a cave and has too much stuff in it. It is a ground floor apartment that became a condo. The only windows are at the front and the back of the building, and making it a dark hole. I am afraid that she is turning into one of those older women with too many cats… maybe she’s already there: she has the cats and she’s a Certain Age. We have offered to come and help her paint it but she always postpones it when we set aside the time. The place also needs new carpet, plumbing work, new linoleum, new kitchen counters (I don’t think hot persimmon is a color that’s In this year), and a match dropped in a bucket of gasoline. I am tempted to buy her a new countertop (I think I can barely afford that) just to get things moving, but torching the place is still very tempting.
They both call me and complain about the other’s taste in housing: she wants something old that has character, he wants something newish and bland. He is drawn to houses that will be the death of him, houses with sunken living rooms, and steps up or down throughout the house.
I can’t figure how Marilyn fits into this picture of domestic bliss. What will happen if they get married? Will my sister try to lock him in his room if she comes over? My sister hates Marilyn to the point of irrationality. Ok, rationality is not her strong suit to start with, but it’s not even in the same county when the subject comes up.
I am tempted to move to Turks and Caicos and not have a phone nor a computer. They’d have to write to me or come visit me in order to complain.