Maybe, in the final analysis, they saw me as something I wasn’t and I tried to turn them into something they could never be. I loved them all but maybe I never understood any of them. I don’t think they understood me.
Because I was promoted as a sort of a siren and played all those sexy broads, people made the mistake of thinking I was like that off the screen. They couldn’t have been more wrong.
If I had my life to live over again, I’d live it the same way. Maybe a few changes here or there, but nothing special. The truth is, honey, I’ve enjoyed my life. I’ve had a hell of a good time.
The truth is that the only time I’m happy is when I’m doing absolutely nothing. I don’t understand people who like to work and talk about it like it was some sort of goddamn duty. Doing nothing feel like floating on warm water to me. Delightful, perfect.
When I’m old and gray, I want to have a house by the sea. And paint. With a lot of wonderful chums, good music, and booze around. And a damn good kitchen to cook in.
I want to remember it all, the good times and the bad times, the late nights, the boozing, the dancing into dawns, and all the great and not-so-great people I met and loved in those years.
Women’s liberation as a movement makes some valid points. But in the final analysis, it doesn’t matter who wears the pants – as long as there’s money in the pockets.
