of Kaluga Obl. The story of my father: one day the men asked my grandfather, say, you and your wife live for half a hundred years and do not argue (in the village everyone knows about everyone). How is it? - You know that the young people at night go to sit-ups, and then accompany the guys under the hand of the girls, walking down the central street. One evening spent - nothing, two - a occasion... and three count the bridegroom. Here I went to accompany one, I went to say something, and she suddenly started to pull her hand out of underneath mine. I didn’t understand, it turns out I was walking straight into the pit on the road, I didn’t turn. She swallowed and put me under the hand again. To the next hole, I went purposefully.
She also cleaned her hand. The next night with another girl I was on the same route. The same picture, scattered the slides. The next night I went with the third. Again in the middle of the road. I approach - she holds me tightly, listens to me and... walked around with me. I just didn’t see the lump. Then I go to the next, deeper. Zero attention to the lump. Since then, we have been walking in a row and not quarrelling, we live in a good way. All the men opened their mouths, and who are older and say that your grandfather did not tell you before how to choose wives. Maybe we would be happier...