Speed Dating Events

The problem has its origins in childhood, long before a young man and woman stand at the altar to say, ‘I do’. For her part, the girl is taught subtly by society that marriage is a lifelong romantic experience; that loving husbands are entirely responsible for the happiness of their wives; Read the rest of this entry »

Not all men are wolves in gorilla’s clothing. There is a successful proposition for every unsuccessful one, and many men discover for themselves the truth of the old biblical adage, ‘ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find’. They don’t have to be great stylists. They simply have to make a woman feel as if they mean it for her, and for her alone. If they can do that, they can get away with the most . . . laid-back approaches. Read the rest of this entry »

Fitzgerald first created this situation in This Side Of Paradise, a book to fall in love by, if ever there was one. As Rosalind and Amory fall in love . . .

. . . they were together constantly, for lunch, for dinner, and nearly every evening — always in a sort of breathless hush, as if they feared that any minute the spell would break and drop them out of this paradise of rose and flame. But the spell became a trance, seemed to increase from day to day; they began to talk of marrying in July — in June. All life was transmitted into terms of their love, all experience, all desires, all ambitions were nullified: ‘She’s life and hope and happiness, my whole world now.’ Read the rest of this entry »

But often when a man makes an ill-considered plunge into wedlock, it is more a question of his falling than being pushed. Such is the case of H. G. Wells’s hero in The History of Mr Polly. Vague feelings of dissatisfaction with his life, ambitions to open a shop, a sunny afternoon in the park and the presence of a girl he has been seeing for some time, all come together in one fatal impulse:

One did ought to be happy in a shop,’ said Miriam, with a note of unusual softness in her voice . . .‘I could be happy in a shop,’ he said.His sense of effect had made him pause. Read the rest of this entry »

The truly modern woman, however, does not just timidly bleat ‘marry me’, with a great big question mark. As imagined by the irreplaceable Joe Orton in his black comedy, Loot, she moves swiftly in on the kill, then goes for the jugular with the grace of a panther.

Fay has been the resident nurse during the last illness of

McLeavy’s wife:

FAY: You’ve been a widower for three days. Have you considered a second marriage yet?

MCLEAVY: A second wife would be a physical impossibility. Read the rest of this entry »

DOLLY LEVI: Horace, you can’t deny it, your wife would have to be a SOMEBODY. Answer me: am I a somebody?

VANDERGELDER: You are . . . you are . . . A wonderful woman.

DOLLY LEVI: Oh, you’re partial.

VANDERGELDER: Dolly, everybody knows that you could do anything you wanted to do Read the rest of this entry »

MY DEAR MADAM,

. . . Is it most expedient for a man to make avowal of his attachment to a lady ‘viva voce’ (`anglice’ in ate a ate) or by epistolary correspondence?

This preface explains the motive of my now addressing you. It will save me the necessity of a more explicit avowal, and declare to you that my future happiness on earth is at your disposal . . .

And so on, for pages and pages of pompous and prosaic guff. Mr Trollope, like Mr Collins, claims to despise those who ‘contract alliances upon motives of a pecuniary nature’, yet his letter goes into both his financial situation and hers in minute detail. Finally he winds up on a note of unconcious irony: Read the rest of this entry »

Brutally Ransome fights off all remonstration, all reproach: ‘do you suppose I pretend not to be selfish?’ he demands. ‘She’s mine or she isn’t, and if she’s mine she’s all mine.’ Even the pleas of Verena herself have no impact on him:

‘Oh, let me off, let me off . . . its too terrible, it’s impossible. Now I want you to go away — I will see you tomorrow, as long as you wish. That’s all I want now; if you will only go away it’s not too late, and everything will be alright!’

In answer, Ransome simply states:

We shall catch the night train for New York, and the first thing in the morning we shall be married. Read the rest of this entry »

This South-West version of the Hound of the Baskervilles barks and sniffs round him all night. The Major hangs there in mortal dread that any second he will feel a vicious set of canines sink into the seat of his pants. But this is not the only trial. If ever a man suffered . . .

The wind begun to blow bominable cold, and the old bag kep turnip round and swingin so it made me sea-sick as mischief . . . thar I sot with my teeth rattlin like 1 had a ager. I do blieve if I didn’t love Miss Mary so powerful I would of froze to deth; for my hart was the only spot that felt warm, and it didn’t beat more’n two licks a minit, only when I thought how she would be sprised in the mornin, and then it went into a canter. Read the rest of this entry »

Yonder a maid and her wight

Go whispering by,

War’s annals will fade into night

Ere their story die.

It is LOVELY WHEN DUKES FIND their Duchesses. Or any kind of lord or lordling, baron or baronet. But making a magic proposal is not the monopoly of a titled or educated man. The wonders of falling in love and wanting to marry are available to all comers, high and low alike. It’s a real- life drama of dreams come true for every new couple. Read the rest of this entry »