upon being invited to move to NYC with the man of her dreams, Mary Ann asks what's wrong with her. The reply:
"Nothing, Babycakes. you're just tired of running away from home."
On the modern fairy tale:
How long had she waited for this smile, these eyes, this strong, simple spirit that had come to her in a world marred by greed and anxiety and computer dating? And how long, dear God, would it last?
"I think he likes me. Help me figure out what's wrong with him."
A dating tip for men:
"The next time you meet a girl--someone that you really like--pretend that you're a war hero and that all your basic plumbing got shot off in the war."
"I'm perfectly serious, dear. Don't tell a soul--especially her, for heaven's sake--but pretend to yourself that this dreadful thing has happeend and the only way you can communicate your feelings is through your eyes, your heart."
"And what if she wants to go home with me?"
"You can't, dear. You've lost your ww-ww, remember? All you can do is smile bravely and invite her to dinner the next night--or maybe a nice walk in the park. She'll accept, too. I promise she will."
Brian took a long drag on the joint. "So how long...?" He exhaled in midsentence, making sure he maintained an expression of amused tolerance. "How long am I supposed to keep pretending?"
"As long as possible. Until she asks you."
"Asks me what?"
"If you were wounded in the war, of course!"
"And what do I tell her?"
:The truth, dear. That everything's intact. It'll be a lovely surprise for her."
He folded his arms across his chest and smiled at her.
"And," she said, raising her forefinger, "you'll have a nice surprise too."
"You'll know the poor dear, Brian. And you might even like her by then."
All from More Tales of the City