Q. I’ve been seeing an English guy and I really like him. He wants me to meet his parents, but his family is quite posh and I’m not sure if they’ll approve of me. What should I do?

Ruby says: I’ve been in exactly this kind of situation. When I worked as a dancer back in Sydney, I hooked up with a guy whose dad owned one of the largest discount furniture stores in the western suburbs. It was a successful family business, which my fella was going to take over one day, but his parents didn’t think I was good enough for their boy.

I went out of my way to get to know them but it was a waste of time. I had a lovely surprise planned for his grandmother’s 70th birthday but apparently my routine “wasn’t appropriate”. That was when I knew the rarified air of the western suburbs elite wasn’t for me.

I packed up my body stockings and strap-ons and headed back to the Cross where I belonged. You should think about doing the same.


Dear Reuben


Rueben says: People say class doesn’t really matter but, in my experience, these things we can’t escape. I served in the US Army in World War I and then moved east to Long Island to learn the bonds business. I fell in with a fabulously wealthy set. Their parties were alive with innuendo and enthusiastic meetings between women who never even knew each other’s names. Their crowd seemed to engage in casual affairs but eventually, it all ended in tragedy – one of my friends, a charismatic bootlegger, was shot dead by a jealous husband while floating in his swimming pool.

I moved back to the Midwest, resolved that my efforts to fit in on Long Island were futile and misguided.  Like me, you risk having your illusions shattered. You don’t belong with those folks. Accept your place in this world and spare yourself the heartache.

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