Ok, well, in that vein:

I had a friend who went to Ireland just after ending a really unhappy five-year relationship. She was a lovely lady, with flowing red hair all down her back and skin the color of milk. (I always wished *I* could look like that -- very dramatic). So she goes to Dublin on her first day and is walking down the street, schlepping her bags and looking for her B&B and this adorable Irish Spring-looking lad all decked out in corduroy and tweeds (of course) sees her walking down the street, stops right in front of her, dropped to one knee, swept off his cap and said, "Lady, I would die for you."

It certainly worked out well for him.