Everyone is in need of a little advice now and again. And with Valentine's Day quickly approaching I thought we ladies best brush up on our dating skills.
Oh Page Peterson, is there nothing you don't know?
SpectorGirl: Bathrobes aren't going to help you in the romance home stretch, either, Maria. I love the look on Bill's face, sitting on the couch. Can I go home yet? Truthfully, though, if I went over to a woman's house for a date and she entertained in bathrobe and curlers, I might be so disoriented . . . well, who knows? Sparks might fly before I could get my feet under me. – Mykal
When I first discovered romance comics I was amazed. How had I never known that something so ridiculously wonderful existed? Romance stories where girls (which apparently ALL women prefer to be called, not just me!) were never truly complete without a man by their side. Girls that wanted nothing more than a boy to take them away from their day-to-day lives as store clerks, socialites, or, god forbid, unpopular high school students. *gasp*
Some of the best stories were from Marvel, where many of them touted "As Told to Stan Lee". Now don't get me wrong, Stan Lee rules, but I refuse to believe that any girl ever felt compelled to pour out her soul to him and then let him publish it all in comic form.
These comics where full of loneliness, "hip slang", rich men and misunderstood bad boys just waiting for the right girl to come along.
So, lets forget all about Elizabeth Gaskell and Jane Austen. Let's sit down and enjoy stories of secretaries and the architects that will let them quit their jobs and support them.
I am a great fan of comics, View-Masters, magazine and book cover illustrations from the 50's, 60's and 70's, as well as old horror films. So that I don't drive my husband too crazy (or distract him too long from his own obsessions) I have chosen to obsess to strangers.
SpectorGirl: Bathrobes aren't going to help you in the romance home stretch, either, Maria. I love the look on Bill's face, sitting on the couch. Can I go home yet? Truthfully, though, if I went over to a woman's house for a date and she entertained in bathrobe and curlers, I might be so disoriented . . . well, who knows? Sparks might fly before I could get my feet under me. – Mykal
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