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In this one area, though, I was a perpetual optimist: around the corner would be my Prince Charming. Ever alert to the possibility of being swept off my feet, the next sweep came unexpectedly when I attended a dull party in Toronto — for which I was very late, possibly because I knew from the tony address that it was bound to be dull. Most of the guests were leaving when I arrived with a current companion from Montreal, a suave and clever Jewish lawyer who felt about me much the way I felt about him: if not Ken and Barbie dolls, we were the matchmakers’ mature Jewish version, so we ought to try this on and see if it works but it’s very unlikely. Besides, he had a much younger French-Canadian girlfriend in his own back garden.
My future third husband, who had just arrived from