The professor paced through his lecture. “Every woman is a man-hunter,” dropped from his lips as an unquestioned fact.
The year was 1950, and my grandmother was working her way through college, still a spinster at age thirty-one.
In an undertone meant to be heard, Grandma took the authority to correct the teacher’s misrepresentation.
“I’ve never met a man I couldn’t live without.”
Two weeks later, with the same quiet voice, she invited the class to her wedding.
Mocking her, the professor inquired, with polite words, whether she’d met someone new.
“No,” she said. “But I used to think I could live without him.”
I LOVE this!
How cute!
I grew up with the line, “Don’t marry the person you think you can live with. Marry the one you can’t live without.”
This was part of what was on my mind as I tried to decide about Jay.
The day he told me he’d asked my dad’s permission I asked him, “Are you just trying to check the next thing off your list?” The sermon that weekend had been from a missionary who was talking about living his life by-the-list when he was younger (and getting married being a list item).
“No,” he answered, gently patient with me. “I’m looking for someone I can’t live without.”