During the evening, Sarah broaches the subject of (their) life insurance, an issue she has been raising with him for at least 10 years, without success.
“Abe,” she says, with tears in her eyes, “I don’t think you love me.”
“Why do you think that?” he asks.
“Because if you really loved me, you would ensure that if anything happened to you, God forbid, I would be properly provided for.”
“Sarah,” he says angrily, “I need life insurance like I need a hole in the head.”
“I know your views,” says Sarah, “but I’ve spoken to two of my friends recently and they tell me that their husbands have life insurance — and they’re not as rich as you
If it’s good enough for them, why isn’t it good enough for you?”
“I’ll tell you why,” replies Abe
“It’s because they’ve been paying high premiums month after month, and what have they got so far in return? Nothing!”
“So what if their husbands have been paying for nothing?” says Sarah.
You’ve always told me I’m luckier than my friends — who knows, maybe this time I’ll strike it rich.”
