Although Betty and I had corresponded by email, and she had written the fabulous foreword to Naked at Our Age, we had never met in person. Now, on this trip to New York, I was about to have the opportunity and pleasure of spending a couple of hours with this icon of sexual empowerment.
But -- "drove me crazy"? Was she referring to me? Her memory was that I was the pushy broad who had pursued her relentlessly until she agreed to write the foreword to Naked, after she told me a thousand times she was too busy.
My memory was that she had told me once that she was too busy. I had said, "Just read the table of contents and one chapter of the manuscript, and then tell me whether you can make time." She had done so and said, "I'll do it."
I laugh at my unreliable memory a lot these days, and so does Betty at almost-83, though she's as sharp, smart, and witty as any three young people combined, so maybe her version is right. Regardless, she loves the book and believes in my mission.
We bonded immediately. Within two minutes of my arrival, Betty lifted her tunic and flashed her bare booty at me, saying, "I haven't finished getting dressed yet."
"Woo hoo! Do that again," I said, grabbing my cell phone camera. She repeated the action several times so I could get a good photo.
"May I post this on my blog?" I asked, showing Betty the best shot.
"Absolutely not!" she replied. So Betty Dodson's naked butt resides on my phone photo gallery exclusively -- sorry, folks!
The three of us chatted for an hour about senior sex, sharing and laughing and having a fine time. (The podcast is live now, listen here.)
I left Betty's apartment joyful and even more impressed with Betty Dodson than I had been two hours before. What a woman. She called me "sister warrior" in an email after she read Naked at Our Age. On this day, she called me "friend."