Gossip Girl

Lily Haxworth Wallace continues her chapter on dating in The New American Etiquette (1941) with a stern word of caution about the power of gossip, especially in smaller communities. And even in a large city, there might be plenty of gossip about the apartment building or the office. It reminds me just how precious a woman's reputation still was to her in the 1940s. Most of us live in communities today where there's such anonymity that we can lead our lives with whatever code of conduct feels right to us - and where it's no longer considered politically correct to "judge" anybody else - but there was no such anonymity sixty years ago. If a young woman damaged her reputation, she might destroy her chances to marry well and have a home to keep. She might even damage her children's chances to do the same. Wagging tongues and long memories:

To maintain your standing and reputation in the community it is not alone necessary to be absolutely proper in your behavior. In addition, you must give the appearance of absolute propriety if the tongues are not to wag.

You know that there is no harm done when you invite Tom into your apartment at 2:30 o'clock in the morning after a wonderful evening but a gossip across the corridor can find a lot to talk about in that. After the story has traveled the rounds, it is quite likely to be keeping Tom alone with you until daylight.

Wouldn't it have been better to have explained to Tom that your neighbors cannot seem to leave your life alone and that, therefore, it is best that you omit that late cup of coffee?

Not long ago I was in a restaurant in a small town. A young married couple entered and, just inside, were joined by a single man who was a friend of their family. On the way to find a table, the husband stopped for a minute to chat with a business associate. The wife and other man found a booth and took seats. Across the way were two women, both acquaintances of the wife. They had not seen her husband enter with her. Immediately their heads went together and I eavesdropped on the following conversation:

"Look at that, my dear, who would have thought that Helen could be so brazen?"

"Oh, you can't always tell about these young girls. I am certainly glad I found out about this."

At that moment the husband came on the scene and sat beside his wife. I never saw more disappointed expressions than appeared on the faces of the two Mrs. Grundys.

Of course, such a thing would never be considered a topic for gossip in a large city but it serves to show what type of stories the small minds of some persons, and they are not always women, can create from perfectly innocent facts. You cannot avoid, entirely, gossip about you founded on pure untruths and circulated by malicious persons. But, in relations with men you will be wise to be as circumspect as possible in order to do nothing that will lend credence to any such slander.

I don't have much to worry about myself in the way of wagging tongues around my apartment complex. Not only do most of my neighbors not even greet each other in passing, but the man my coworker set me up with has yet to hint about getting together for a cup of coffee or anything else. Which I can't say I'm exactly disappointed about. We've exchanged four or five emails during the past week, and he is becoming more of a dud with every email. Oh my goodness, he actually started telling me about the board games he likes to play! I'd have been more than willing to meet the guy - plenty of people sound much different in person than they do by email --- but my interest in even this has an expiration date. I don't need another pen pal.

Now if it were Curly we were talking about, it would be lovely indeed to find myself in the predicament of the young lady being escorted home in the wee hours. Unfortunately, I've lost all power of speech around him. He's been growing out his hair this summer and, the longer those curls get, the faster my heart races whenever I see him. All I can do is blush like a madwoman and stammer out a word or two - which is completely embarrassing and makes it impossible even to try and flirt. We seem to be stalled at "Hi! How are you?" "Good, and you?" Yet my office-mate is convinced that in all the years he's worked there he's never come by the office to use our kitchen this frequently. And if eye contact could make up for words, we'd be having some pretty fascinating conversations. He definitely lingers a bit when it comes to looking at me.

Who knows? Maybe it's just the fact that I'm shrinking. I probably look a little different every time he sees me. My face is changing pretty dramatically as I lose this weight. The bone structure is starting to emerge and my neck and chin are slimming down enough that I like wearing my hair up again. Oh, and it turns out I have a collarbone - it was in there all this time!

Now if I could only get some poise back...