…in the 1930’s.
Don't stick your finger in his ear, ladies. That's for the 3rd date.
Yeah, fuck your interests, bitch.
So that's where all my dates went wrong!
Looks like a pretty successful night to me.
For more tips for dating in 1938, check here.
Everything about the last picture spells success in my book. She’s drunk, and he’s still paying for the meal and booze.
While she was flirting with that other patron, her creepy date slipped some Rohypnol into her drink. It was part of his plan all along!
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