THE PERFECT MAN

I walked out to the street and caught a taxi just going by.

As I got into the taxi, the cabbie says, “perfect timing. You’re just like Frank.

"Who ?" I remarked.

Cabbie: “Frank …. he’s a guy who did everything right all the time. Like my coming along when you needed a cab, things happened like that to Frank Feldman every single time.”

"Well, I said, “there are always a few clouds over everybody.”

Cabbie: “Not Frank. He was a terrific athlete. He could have won the Grand Slam in tennis. He could golf with the pros. He sang like an opera baritone, danced like a Broadway star. And, you should have heard him play the piano! He was an amazing guy.”

I said: "Sure sounds like he was somebody really special.”

Cabbie: “Oh well, there’s more. Frank had a memory like a computer. He remembered everybody’s birthday. He knew all about wine, which foods to order, and which fork to eat it with, and could fix anything. Not like me. I change a fuse and the whole street blacks out. But Frank, he could do everything right.”

I glanced at the cabbie in his mirror and said: “he must really be some kind of guy.”

Cabbie: “He always knew the quickest way to go in traffic and avoid traffic jams. Not like me, I always seem to get stuck in them. But Frank never made mistakes, and he really knew how to treat a woman and make her feel good. He would never argue back, even if she was in the wrong; and his clothing was always immaculate, shoes highly polished too. He was the perfect man! I new knew him to make a mistake! No one could ever measure up to Frank.”

Now my interest was peaked as I had never heard of a cabbie who developed such a knowledge and interest in a fare . . . so I remarked:

"Frank must be an amazing fellow. How did you meet him?"

Cabbie: "Well, I never actually met Frank.

He died, and I married his wife.”

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