A 25-year-old girl writes to a girlfriend on the wall:

My mom loves to talk about "why my daughter is not yet married". The scheme is this: she looks at the photo, and says: "Well. What’s wrong with that?"
Answers from the series "loved" or "not met" will not roll. For my mother, in a healthy man with two legs and two hands, there may be only two serious shortcomings - drunk or dumb.
I am turning around to somehow comfort her: I was fooled. and drunk. and blasphemed.
And I look at him and try to remember: and what was wrong with him? They fell in love and did not meet. In other words, I was chewing, I drank... (