Now that Chelsea Clinton's married it might be a good time to talk about divorce. I'm a rarity, an American male above thirty whose never been married. This in itself can be an interesting thing, as I found out in Berkeley. On nights when my friend had to work late at the lab she'd auction me off to lab mates whose great looks would insure them of a line of suitors in New York. When I asked one of these women about it I was told that all the men in San Francisco/Berkeley are either gay or married. (Is it any wonder that when I first saw Castro Street I thought of it as the world's largest drag strip?)
Serving papers on somebody can be hit or miss. Usually the intended recipient doesn't want the papers. This was especially true of one of Bergdorf's models, a cute brunette whose husband simply couldn't control her. They were separated but the divorce papers were still out, which meant our model was receiving all the benefits and none of the bad parts of marriage. Part of the reason the papers hadn't been served was that she was no longer living with her husband, and finding her at home wasn't easy. We were taking bets on how long this would continue.
Better Dresses was having a major runway show. Great catering, lots of A-line guests, and lots of eye candy, including our heroine. Most of the models had admirers presenting them with flowers once they got off. No sooner had our heroine stepped off the runway when an admirer handed her flowers and a note. Words were exchanged, and said model sat down heavily in a chair, alternately crying and cursing. Her husband found the one place she had to be, and justice, as well as the model, was serve
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