She Refused To Be Bored

The Flapper Awoke From Her Lethargy Of Sub-deb-ism, Bobbed Her Hair, Put On Her Choicest Pair Of Earrings And A Great Deal Of Audacity And Rouge And Went Into The Battle. She Flirted Because It Was Fun To Flirt And Wore A One-piece Bathing Suit Because She Had A Good Figure She Was Conscious That The Things She Did Were The Things She Had Always Wanted To Do. Mothers Disapproved Of Their Sons Taking The Flapper To Dances, To Teas, To Swim And Most Of All To Heart.

Being In Love, She Concluded, Is Simply A Presentation Of Our Pasts To Another Individual, Mostly Packages So Unwieldy That We Can No Longer Manage The Loosened Strings Alone.

Oh, The Secret Life Of Man And Woman--dreaming How Much Better We Would Be Than We Are If We Were Somebody Else Or Even Ourselves, And Feeling That Our Estate Has Been Unexploited To Its Fullest.

It Seems To Me That On One Page I Recognized A Portion Of An Old Diary Of Mine Which Mysteriously Disappeared Shortly After My Marriage, And, Also, Scraps Of Letters Which, Though Considerably Edited, Sound To Me Vaguely Familiar. In Fact, Mr. Fitzgerald (i Believe That Is How He Spells His Name) Seems To Believe That Plagiarism Begins At Home.

I'm Just Not The Same. Half Of Me Is Out There Looking For You And The Other Half Is Wishing I Didn't Have To." I Don't Want To Live - I Want To Love First, And Live Incidentally. Don't-don't Ever Think Of The Things You Can't Give Me-you've Trusted Me With The Dearest Heart Of All-and It's So Damn Much More Than Anybody Else In All The World Has Ever Had.