Every once in awhile, after a quarter century of marriage, The Great Husband says something to me so utterly perfect that it's actually better than chocolate. This weekend it happened again. It was one of those "remember that?" conversations, and mostly it was about how little of "this" we could have predicted "then."
The Great Husband told me that he agrees with C. K. Dexter Haven. I can be whatever I want. I'm his "redhead." (I don't have red hair, but I knew what he meant.)
(From the Cary Grant/Katherine Hepburn movie The Philadelphia Story)
She's in a jam. Her ex-husband proposes marriage to her because she's finally figured out how to have "the one essential: an understanding heart. And without that you might just as well be made of bronze." She still loves him, of course. Her better self always did. But she knows what she has been - so she asks him:
Tracy Lord: Oh Dexter you're not doing it just to soften the blow?
C. K. Dexter Haven: No.
Tracy Lord: Nor to save my face?
C. K. Dexter Haven: Oh, it's a nice little face.
Tracy Lord: Oh Dexter, I'll be yar now, I promise to be yar.
C. K. Dexter Haven: Be whatever you like, you're my redhead.