Tonight, Joe Haskell was wound up tighter than a nun’s bloomers because of what I can only call reverse class envy. He somehow thinks that your cousin’s reluctance to get hitched is based on him coming from the streets. However, the only one I see refusing anything is Haskell. He swaggered around making all kinds of rumpot assertions about Carolyn’s feelings, based on nothing. Yeah, she’s been cooped up with your gooney aunt (sorry, it’s the truth) and your dad, but so are you, and I never heard you running away from marriage.
I’m just funning you. (By the way, stay the hell away from the altar.)
Anyway, marriage isn’t the issue. It’s fear. Here’s Haskell. He’s got Collinsport by the scruff. Luckiest guy in town. Too lucky, and he knows it. So, he thinks he’ll blow it. What’s he do? He makes up a weird fiction about her rejecting him before he can reject… wait a minute. That makes no sense. Just don’t do whatever it is that Haskell did tonight.
David, I’m no psychologist. And I have no business giving advice while drunk. Which is too bad, because it’s a major pastime.