Memory, circa 1970:

My sister and I were young teenagers, and our mom was dating. We were quite opposed to this phenomenon, even though she was a very fashionable, hip divorcee (that's what they called divorced women back in the '60s/'70s!, with an accent egu on the first e!) and she deserved to have some fun outside of being the mom of two girls.

We giggled at the way she primped and fussed before her dates. We'd watch her, and then make endless fun of the way she fluffed up her hair when her date, Karl, arrived at the front door. "Oh, Karl, my hair is a MESS!" she would say coyly. We girls would guffaw from the stairway.

Later, when the dating couple would return, sis and I would sit up in our bedroom watching them as they stood outside. We would open the screen window on my side of the room and we'd hang out the window making kissy noises at them. Sometimes I remember we'd even try to be very quiet and just drop food on their heads, aiming for his head, of course.

We were insufferable.

And now I am a divorcee, dating, and I have a teenage son. How strange. I had that memory today and suddenly realized how the circle turns....