The paper bag that I tripped on as I slid onto the bar seat was stuffed with a mink hat and fox stole; I didn't find that out until an hour after I arrived, after he offered me mink, a trip to Vegas in August, and then three weekends hence a weekend in Atlantic City, Gradually the mink (hinting at the time that it was a coat) became a fox, and eventually became the reality...his meal ticket for the next couple of days, or his usual...a fling at the races. Sure he can say he owes me a lot for the money I lent him three years ago, the lengthy phone calls during which I chastised him for his self-destructive nature; or even the night at the beach when he left and I wound up with a car stranded in the sand. There were some young people smoking nearby, they were kind enough to push me out, all the time I was cursing at myself for being in a position that was hardly fitting for a mother of two children, midnight on a weekday night in the cold.

Depends on my view of the relationship, I figure it was cheaper than having an emotional attack; his being so handsome, cuddly, remarking on my perfume, how well I looked, etc. His offer to be my lover wouldn't be such a bad idea from the looks of it, except there isn't anything to what he says.

 

Written some time in the 70's