I saw these tips from a 1938 dating guide for women and it made it very very clear to me that had I been born earlier I most certainly would have died alone.
Women who enjoy conversation while dancing are careless? Ok. Fine. Consider me careless because I think it’s a little weird not to say something when you’re dancing. I mean, you’re just like swaying around and there are lots of other people sort of swaying around in your vicinity. A little talking, maybe a little hypocritical mocking of other people’s dance skills, really improves the moment if you ask me.
I can’t believe no one ever told me that everything I like and am interested in is boring and that the only things in life worth talking about are things that men want to talk about. I guess public school really let me down on that one because I think I’m interesting as hell.
Not so. I get super duper extra clever when I’ve had too much to drink. Like, the kind of clever people wish they were. I’m the cleverest drunk there ever was. Ever. And for the record, cleverness is just silliness with a tuxedo on.
How are men supposed to know you like them if you don’t tug on their ear?
Um, I’m not a robot ok? I’m a real human person who has feelings and maybe gets a little choked up when ordering lobster because lobsters mate for life and I am probably breaking up a very happy couple by eating one. Also, I just found out lobsters don’t actually mate for life and that makes me sad too.
Oh man. Look at that guy looking at that girl with floppy boobs. He is disgusted. Obviously, men hate boobies and want them locked up in a boob jail aka a bra at all times.
Conclusion: 1938 was not a great year for dating advice.