Fifty years ago, while in college, I drove a taxi at night. Near midnight I was sent to an all night florist. When I arrived a prepaid arrangement was ready for delivery along with a rhyming telegram.
The house was dark, but I rung the bell anyway. A stunning young lady came to the door. She grabbed the telegram and tore it to shreds. Then she heaved the flowers into the front yard. And then she slammed the door in my face. Not a solitary word was exchanged.