A.N. Well, here's the second installment! Hope you all enjoy : ). Keep in mind - these are definitely not in chronological order; this happens about eight months after the first one.
Moments in Time: The Way I See It. . .
Now I'm not saying that all strong and beautiful women are cruel, and I'm not saying that they aren't: what I am saying is that no man with an ounce of intelligence should ever become involved with a woman who is both stronger and better-looking than he is.
Take that fellow, for example: tall and gangly, with a fashion sense that might have been considered 'hip' around the time my husband flew a warplane for the Allied forces; this chap is not unattractive, although he seems to have forgotten to outgrow the awkward stage that hit when he was thirteen. He seems like a nice, albeit gullible, young man, and his strong square jaw is striking -- it reminds me of someone I saw on the television, although I can't for the life of me think who. Yes, this man has promise: he would do quite well with a quiet, mild-mannered sort of wife who would sit at home and mind the children.
Of course, young men like him must learn from experience, and I know this boy was in trouble as soon as I laid eyes on him.
I was sitting on my bench quite comfortably, watching the people scurry around the fountain as they do, all in a rush, when along he came, pacing about and rubbing his hands together nervously, muttering to himself like a lunatic.
I knew immediately there was a beautiful woman at the crux of the matter; and, no doubt, she would make an appearance before long.
In the meantime, however, he sat down on my bench and was kind enough to listen to an old lady's prattle when I struck up a conversation with him. He even feigned interest in the photographs I had of my granddaughter -- now she would be a good match for him -- and picked up my cane when I knocked it over. I would be willing to bet that young man was a boy scout when he was growing up: you can always tell the type.
Things went much as I had anticipated: soon enough a cab stopped on the curb near the fountain and a woman stepped out. It was worse than I had feared, I realized as the fellow -- I never did catch his name -- hurried off to meet her.
This was not just any ambitious businesswoman; this was Lois Lane, that reporter from the Daily Planet who is, or so I have heard, one of the most brilliant, confident, and career-minded women in Metropolis. And let me tell you, her looks are nothing to sneeze at, either.
It's no wonder the boy fell hard for her, yet I can't but feel sorry for the poor thing; I really think he is going to have his heart broken. Because she controls his heart: I can see in his eyes that he cares for her deeply, and normally I would be happy for him, but in my experience women like her do not go with men like him unless they want a bit of fun -- and he wants a little something more than that, I think.
I wonder that he should have plucked up the courage to ask her, though, when all the tabloids say she is in love with Superman. Little more than half a year, too, since, according to my nephew's son's girl, who works at the Planet -- not that I asked her to gossip, mind you -- Ms. Lane broke off a five year engagement to the father of her only child after the Man in Blue saved her and her son from the wreckage of a collapsed building. Not exactly the sort of thing one would expect from an honorable sort of woman, is it?
Ryan's girl says Ms. Lane never 'got over' Superman in the first place, that she was just trying to replace him with that fiancé of hers all this time. I wouldn't know anything about that, and it is certainly not my place to judge, especially not without sufficient information, but. . . the man was the father of her child, and she just dropped him on a whim, or so the tabloids say. And now there she goes, stringing along this nice young fellow, smiling up into his eyes as if she really meant it.
Pity, really, they do make quite a nice young couple strolling around the fountain like that, her hand tucked safely into his arm. I do believe the boy is far more handsome than I originally gave him credit for, and -- he is so tall! They do look sweet together. Hmm, I remember when I used to walk like that, back in the day when Harold and I would--
But what is this? Clumsy man must have dropped something, or -- Oh, my dear. I do believe -- yes, he is kneeling -- I do believe the nice young man is proposing! The poor thing; if only she is kind she will tell him no right away rather than string him on. My, that is quite a long engagement speech; I do say, he certainly knows how string two words together. If only -- but wait a minute. Did she just say yes? It looks as if those are tears, but surely she couldn't possibly--
My goodness! In my day, such public displays of affection were conducted well away from the public eye!
Well, I suppose Ms. Lane got over Superman after all.