My Daughter, observe my counsel, for the heart of a man is like unto a
Broadway car, in which there is always room for _one more_.
Behold, in matters of love, a woman is a _specialist_, but a man is a
_general practitioner_. Yea, a woman loveth but one _type_--even _one
man_--but a man loveth anything which happeneth to be _at hand_.
Lo, he that weddeth a brunette shall ever after seek peroxide blondes;
and he that marryeth a pink and yellow _doll_ shall acquire a sudden
interest in _intellect_ and _brunettes_. For _variety_ is the spice of
love.
Moreover, a woman is an epicure in love, but a man is a gourmand.
In the love-feast, a woman desireth but one course at a time; but a man
relisheth them _all_ served _at once_, like unto a dinner at a country
inn.
Yea, he mixeth his flirtations, even as he mixeth his libations, and
wondereth sadly why he awakeneth always with an headache.
Verily, verily, even thy Father, Solomon, had not _more_ than enough
wives. For every man requireth at least two soul-mates.
One for Sundays--and one for week days.
One to amuse him--and one to wait upon him.
One to save his soul--and one to save his pennies.
One to help him make a fortune--and one to help him spend it.
One for his lighter side--and one for his darker side.
One for company, one for comfort, one for inspiration, one for
pastime--and many others, for _a change_.