They say the course of true love never runs smoothly, and they're absolutely right, at least when it comes to romance comic books. Nobody wants to read a weirdly drawn seven pager about a couple that meet at a Mensa meeting, have three or four dates, hit it off, meet each other's families, arrange a sensible, not too expensive wedding, and settle down like reasonable people, because as pleasant as that is to experience, it makes for boring fiction. Who will help? Stupid Comics, that's who.


Look out lady, that guy's hair is about to leap right off his scalp and merge with your hair and then combine to create an ultra-hair monster that will dominate the world! I'm not really sure where that guy's other hand is either. They said it was only a summer affair, but Hair Guy here seems to be angling to make it a year round proposition. Use the knee, sister!


It's Boathouse Love as Brad Sucker... I mean, Brad Monty arrives for the summer and he's not gonna rent, he's gonna listen to that boat and understand that boat's needs and commit to that boat for life. And he's handsome! We've got a live one here. Better reel him in, Amy.


I see Brad's plan... spend all summer, rent a cabin, and use the newly purchased boat to take Amy out on dates, rowing out into the middle of what appears to be a pasture. Maybe there was a flood. Anyway, the plan's working. Tell her what she wants to hear, Brad... that you'll be buying a bigger boat!


Those "sweet pains" in her heart are why Amy always keeps 325-mg aspirin tablets in her purse, just in case.


You thought earlier when I was calling this guy "Hair Guy" that I was just being glib, but his name really is Guy, and he really does have that hair! He's also spiteful because as the only male around until Brad showed up, he figured he was a shoe-in for getting hitched. Sorry buddy, it's now a two-horse race and you aren't even on the track!


Hey hey, looks like Brad made it offical and put a ring on it AND upgraded from that sad non-souped-up wimpmobile he was shoving around the lake. Remember, an engagement ring should cost two months income AND have at least 65 horsepower!


Wait a minute, he proposed, he bought a ring, he has a sweet motorboat, but he hasn't set a date for the wedding? Something's fishy! Better check the live well on that new boat.


Listen Guy, less sneering and more power boating and you too might have a fiancÚ!


"Gone away for business reasons" means only one thing - Brad's other family in Portland - or the detectives they hired - caught up with him. Now he's back on the lam, finding another boathouse niece to romance and another boat to buy outright and only use a few times. Cry your tears Amy, and then think of how long that creep Guy has been waiting to paw you at a dance. I think that would make everybody LESS likely to date Guy, but this is the 1950s we're talking about. All the good men were away in the service, Berlin Airlifting or Korean Warring or U2 Spyplane maintaining or something.


Check it out everybody - Guy put on a coat and a tie. This is as classy as Guy gets!


Just when Amy has resigned herself to a desolate, lonely marriage of convenience, here comes Brad waltzing back into her life as if nothing had happened. What possible reason could Brad have for abandoning his fiancÚ? Why on Earth did he break this boat-house girl's heart? This had better be PRETTY GOOD, Brad.


Oh, okay, that might do it. Better have a doctor's note. Maybe show her the scar, or explain how he still has that fine head of hair after what was no doubt brutally invasive 1950s style brain surgery. But all Amy needs is her truth-detecting ability to read the eyes of others!


And now Doctor Shirtless Guy is here to administer Brad's post-surgical therapy session!


Dang, he actually did just punch the lights out of a guy who just had his lights - or his skull - surgically repaired! I don't know if I'm more disturbed by that, or by the then-new Comics Code erasing the pike-pole with which Amy defends her man. We can see it in that last panel though, we can read between the lines, we aren't stupid. Amy impaled that loser and left him for the sharks. Good one Amy!


Luck is with Brad. There's no damage to his skull, apart from lingering radiation from the chintzy, leaky 1950s style X-ray machines, and he's perfectly capable of asking his doctor if... it's OK for him to get married? Look Brad, this guy is a brain specialist, not a marriage counselor.


It's Diagnosis Matrimony, here in whatever crazy world this is that features an all-night marriage license bureau office in the local hospital. Might as well tell them to send the ambulance over to the boathouse to fish Guy out of the water before the eels start laying eggs in his stab wounds. Ring them wedding bells, we're outta here!

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