After being deflowered, you discover that your parents refuse to give consent to marriage with mustachioed marimba player. You are prevented from arranging another rendezvous, but you see him by chance at Junior League charity dance. He is playing in rhumba band. At intermission, you meet.
You say, “I’m terribly sorry, Harold, but my parents won’t let me marry you.”
He says, “That’s all right, baby. I’ve been happily married for years.”
You say: “How did your wife get her parents’ consent?”
Your main difficulty apparently is getting the consent of your parents. It is wise to learn how other girls get theirs. Miss H.P.
From Edward Gorey’s The Recently Deflowered Girl: The Right Thing to Say on Every Dubious Occasion.