dating situation with some man who couldn’t see beyond my outward appearance. My
svelte body might serve to catch his attention, but it was for me to enjoy—a visible
demonstration of my ability to forgo sugar-filled food in favor of something spiritually
I wrote a long list of the qualities I valued in a for-the-rest-of-my-life husband and
step-father of my daughters. God wanted me to have a wonderful life. Marriage to Mr.
Right was surely a significant part of it.
Mr. Right would love and cherish and respect me, as I would him. It would take time
for us to find each other. If God so willed, it would be lovely if our introduction grew
into an enchanting evening and burgeoning love affair like Deborah Kerr and Cary Grant
had in An Affair to Remember.
Okay, I was still an idealist. Along with my lengthy list of spousal requirements, the
‘wonderful life’ I envisioned was more like a contrived Hollywood romance that
invariably brought me to tears by the time The End scrolled across the screen. Or, like the
romance described in lyrics of myriad tender love songs, especially those Daddy’s
orchestra played; lyrics that were indelible in my mind and sealed in my soul as tightly as
plastic wrap around a bowl. Songs like “Isn’t It Romantic?” by Rogers and Hart. “If
dreams are made of imagination, I'm not afraid of my own creation.” Although I wanted
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