Movie mirror. (1936)

MOVIE MIRROR What Men Have Told Me About Other Women ( Continued from page 33) PARK f^TI L FORD S PARK (rT I LFORD’S FAOE N ( r A Y O e,<x.colty (jltt I IN TfcN cent tuckaway sizes as 1 V*/ ILLUSTRATED AT ALL 5 & JOo STORES than the original) with the unimportant difference that she was some fifteen years younger. But if gentlemen have scruples about mentioning the loves of their lives, they have no such tender reticence concerning the women who have bored, annoyed, pur¬ sued or fooled them. And ffom this field, there are to be gleaned many words to the wise woman. Just the other evening, a famous bache¬ lor actor escorted me to a typical Holly¬ wood party. He is an Englishman. When I say “Englishman,” I mean all that the word implies — a reserved, aloof soul who is like a ship without a pilot when he is robbed of that protective dignity English¬ men must wear at all times. Poor chap, what an evening he spent! We had hard¬ ly arrived at the house when he was forced into the comparative role of a rabbit elud¬ ing the hounds or, in this case, two un¬ attached ladies. One, more persistent than the other, would scarcely let him out of her sight. Finally, worn down by her re¬ lentless tactics, he gave up and spent the remainder of the evening talking to her. About midnight, I took a taxi home — alone. HP HE next morning he rang me up. He was embarrassed beyond words. He hoped I’d understand. He had never been in quite such a predicament before. Was it a jolly old American custom, or what? Englishmen whom I have met in Amer¬ ica have generally asked me that question. They are amazed by the equality of Ameri¬ can women in romantic prerogatives. An American woman makes no effort to be coy or aloof or difficult to know when she really likes a man. She is not only quite capable of telling him she likes him but of arranging an introduction, as well. In Carole Lombard’s picture, “Rhumba,” this was tellingly demonstrated when Carole sent a waiter to George Raft, whom she had never met, requesting «that he come to her table. I had seen this in American films previously, but had always considered it movie fiction. American men seem to think nothing of it — in fact, they know their women to be equally direct in calling quits to a romance that has begun to pall. But to the foreigner, this feminine guidance (either at the beginning or end of a flirtation) is almost beyond compre¬ hension. Many men have told me that they fear a woman who is not natural. There’s a pat, American phrase for it : “an act.” Men can and will forgive a broken heart. In time I believe they really become rather proud of it — it’s much like an attractive scar gained in battle. But they will never forgive a woman who deliberately fools them. Or perhaps I should be more ex¬ plicit : most men can forgive a devil with the heart of an angel. But they can never forgive an angel with the heart of a devil. Men have told me they are afraid of fieautiful, clever women. It’s not really fear, though. It is suspicion. They are such odd creatures, these mal£s, they want the impossible. They want, all the sophis¬ tication, worldliness, charm and under¬ standing that is brought into a woman’s life through experience, but they don’t want her to have had the experience. They want all this in a gingham dress, tied up in blue hair ribbons and marked : “Exclusive.” And many men have unconsciously told me that they hate the practical side of ro¬ mance — too early. Not that they dislike looking at that side of it themselves, but they dislike to have it pointed up for them. One particular man I know was fright¬ ened out of what might have been a great romance and love in his life because the woman was too quick to prompt him to help her with her career. Successful men are always wary of this element in their romances. To kiss one moment and be asked to lift the mortgage the next is the quickest way to kill romance. A wellknown producer of English films once told me that he had fallen so deeply in love with a certain budding young star that he had written out a stellar contract for her and purchased her first starring material. It was to have been a surprise — a sort of engagement present. But the girl made the fatal mistake of continually regaling him with her professional, family and financial difficulties. In time, the man be¬ gan to feel more like her banker than her fiance, and the love story was over. Men have told me so much, in fact, on this subject that I have been forced to realize that were I ever really interested in a man I would never discuss my troubles with him, financial or otherwise. Men have told me that they love sim¬ plicity in women, that their secret ideal is the home-maker, the mate. Yet I have known men with such wives who were unforgivable philanderers. A ND here is something that no man has ever told me, yet I know it to be true : that all men are slaves to physical comfort. The wisest women I ever knew was a plain, unassertive little person who was married to a brilliant novelist, a gay blade with a weather eye toward a beautiful woman. He was thoroughly convinced, he confided in me, that he had his wife completely fooled. But the charm of the situation was that just the opposite was true. She was the clever one. She was the master of the situation. For she knew in her heart that the beauties he met might temporarily infatuate him, but that was all. It was all because she had enslaved him with the ceaseless thought for his comfort with which she conducted his home. But before you conceive the idea that I have learned all there is to learn about what men think of women, let me say that I have had men tell me just enough about other women they have loved to learn this : If some superlatively attractive man crossed my path, one whom I should like to have love me very much, I know I should forget all the generalities men have taught me and fall head over heels in love, subject to all the “bitter mistakes” or “ac¬ cidental successes” of all other women in love. 78