Then, too, a half generation ago, we had not read our Freud. We did
not know the jargon of sex. Both man and girl were apt to call "in
love" the emotion which our present-day young things frankly call
something else. Thus came it that the petting parties of the period
operated under the left wing of a near-engagement.

Yet there was a weakness to the system. Each fiance had the lordly
impression that he "possessed" the lady of his choice. And the minute
the male feels that he possesses a woman, he can get all the
psychology of "riding away" and leaving her. Our Freudian flappers are
better strategians. Man simply can't labor under the impression that
he possesses a young person, if her lingo is calling the once sacred
kiss just a "flash of pash." Applied slang is a great leveller of
romance.

For times have changed since it was good form for a maid to avoid the
crass mention of sex. With prohibition has come such an outburst of
Get Moral Quick legislation that the reaction is now being felt
throughout the length and breadth of the flapper. The legislators
would lengthen the skirts to protect the defenceless male from a
chance thought of legs and the like. Whereat the flapper retaliates by
conversing pretty ceaselessly about--well, say associated subjects.

Last season the writer, being of the genus Successfully Single, woke
up with a start to realize that two desirables had toyed with her
hook--and retreated. One of them had even exited, uttering a fatal
accusation about a "trammelled soul." Such a warning calls for a
taking of stock. And this is what I found: Because of the flappers and
the way they run shop, the whole technique of the man game has
changed. My method, alas, had become as out of style as a pompadour