"he was a drip.. you know the kind, boring, never in the groove, kinda of a dork. a real drip." i listened to my mother describe how she saw my father when she first met him in the early 1960's, using old slang.
"why did you marry him, then?", i asked, puzzled.
she laughed, "because, he knew how to use what he had. you figure it out."
i shuddered at the mental picture, and left the room.