Bill Matassoni

“When I saw Pamela for the first time, I had one thing on my mind. Why wouldn’t I? She had the best legs I had ever seen. Legs that started at the bottom and ended at the top. Legs that belonged in seamed nylons or nothing at all. Legs that made you grind your teeth. I was finishing my workout with push-ups, as usual. Lying exhausted on the floor face-down, I looked up and saw these black high-top tennis shoes with pink shoelaces. By the time I worked my way up to the knees, I was in love. This is to say nothing about the rest of her. She is now 62 and still looks great—a result, I guess, of solid Czechoslovakian genes, a good diet and lots of exercise. She looks like a Victoria’s Secret model with muscles.

She was and still is a divorce attorney. She has had her own practice for the last 20 years. Her last name is Valentine, which she kept after we got married. Valentine, divorce attorney.

I once suggested she add a slogan, something like “Let me help you drive a stake through her/his heart.” And then added she could team up with a dating service to offer a full matchmaking and unmaking product line. She did not follow my advice. All her clients come from referrals. Her clientele is about 50/50 men and women. She is tough on them and makes sure they know the law and don’t get greedy, which near as I can tell, is the biggest problem in divorces. She keeps them out of court. We didn’t get a pre-nup when we got married. But we just celebrated our 27th anniversary, so, so far so good.”