Fun with dating

Market St., Harrisburg, PA. USA (1955)

One of my friends went on a date last night.

“How was it?” I said.

She had some nitpicky things to say before she got to the good part. “He told me his wife died, and I said I was sorry. Then I asked when she died. Guess how long?”

“Two weeks?” I said.

“Close. Three months. His wife was an alcoholic who drank herself to death. He started talking about when she was dying, how she was projectile-vomiting blood ‘and it was coming out her bottom, too.’ ”

I couldn’t stop laughing. “Sounds charming,” I said. “So you’re saying it wasn’t a match made in heaven.”

“Nope.”

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