By Fay King
I don’t envy any dame that is married to an idol.
Of course, you can’t help you fall in love with but if he’s
an idol and you’ve figured you’d rather be miserably happy with him than
miserably happy without him, then let the wedding bells ring out.
The best time to get one of those idol guys is when he is
still in the stages of getting his shoes half-soled and his shirt cuffs turned.
Then, maybe, by holding out all the change on him you can keep him home for his
oats, but unless you are one of those women that maybe the Lord made especially
to be the idols’ wives, and can stand by and watch him hold hands with a bunch
of other gals, you’ll have to sing a so-long to their solos when his ship comes
in.
Of course, a lot a dames that fall so hard for idols wouldn’t
give the same bird a tumble if he was pitching hay instead of world series
ball, or flying a kite instead of an airplane, that’s why I ain’t ever awful
sorry for a domestic smashup of an idol’s flat. That is, of course, I mean if
she copped him
when he was in his luck.
Far be it from me to advise any young thing to pass up an
idol—but I would.
For matrimony just gimme a good guy was a steady job and a
sweet disposition and I’d pass up an idol every time. They may not make a fuss
over him in the cafes, but that is one good reason why he won’t be in them
much. Of course, you can’t help you’re going to fall in love with, but I’d
figure it out very carefully if I saw myself tumbling for an idol.
I’d have to convince myself that I would rather be miserable
with him than without him, and I’d make up my mind to expect to find him more
often on some other dame’s balcony or sun porch than on a pedestal, and if I
was pretty sure I could see a lot that ain’t and shut out a lot that is, to
keep smiling, maybe I’d take a chance. But I don’t think so.
I know I’ve got more temper than temperament, and, anyway,
idols are more often idle than ideal—and a guy I have to support, it ain’t
going to be some bud a lot of dames are eating with all the time.
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