Which says not very much for the perception and self-regard of quite a few men.) I’m being harsh. (No man pops the question unless he is convinced of a yes. You have to be quite a twit to allow matters to escalate to the point where some guy assumes you’ll agree to rely on him for your life’s entertainment when you have no intention of doing any such thing. A man leaned forward in his seat and said, “Oh! I thought you were deformed.”) Years later, I realized that the proposal collector and I were a lot alike. (My adolescence can be summarized by one incident in which I took a gobstopper out of my mouth on a train. Everything that I, as a teenager, wasn’t. Then, I considered her lucky, glamorous, popular with boys. Aged fifteen, I read of one thirtysomething who’d totted up five and was happy to boast of it in a national newspaper. At least, until I’d racked up a couple of marriage offers myself, that’s what I believed. Every woman likes to be proposed to, even if she means to refuse.
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