Dating was a
fine art – back in the 30’s and 40’s.
Young men and women, ages sixteen to married, thought about the date,
planned the date, dressed for the date, and then told stories about the date
for years to come. They went to dances,
to church picnics, to movies, on hikes, and out to dinner. There was a lot less “hanging out” with no
plan.
There was also
less “hanky panky.” Part of the reason was
that the expectation of everyone in general was that a good girl saved herself
until marriage, a good man was the one with honorable intentions who wanted
a good girl to marry, and everyone else didn’t count.
Also, the
watchful eyes of parents and all other older adults (i.e. aunts, uncles,
grandparents, pastors, teachers, Sunday School teachers and the neighbor’s
mother) were attentive to the goings-on among all singles, and so dating
couples operated with much less privacy.
Mothers taught
their sons how to spot a good girl and how to treat a good girl. Young men showed up at the front door in
dress clothes and were freshly washed and shaved. They introduced themselves to the parents,
sat in the parlor waiting with dad, or grandma, or little sis or whoever was
there, until the girl emerged from her boudoir, fashionably late and freshly
coated with a mist of hairspray and just-blotted lipstick.
He took her arm,
promised to have her home by 11 o’clock, and they were off.
Having
said all this, mishaps do happen to the best-laid plans, and here are a few my
mother told me:
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