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.”