Today's story is from the May issue of Love Romances, a Marvel title that was published in May 1963. This is the first Marvel story I've scanned, and while Marvel can't compete with DC's quality, the art is decent and the stories are quite nice, with a naturalistic touch that you don't often find.
Some of you will be interested to know that all of the stories in this particular issue were written by Stan Lee, but don't get your hopes up about any crossovers: our heroine doesn't find herself on a blind date with Bruce Banner or copying her lecture notes for Peter Parker. Instead, she finds herself married to a creep on the first page of the story, which is definitely the wrong way to get a romance started.
I really like this cover, because the heroine looks completely spazzed out underneath that Jiffy Pop hairdo she's rocking.
What a minx, getting married at the beginning of the story. We all know this isn't going to work out, right?
I love Paul's rage, here he's just so pissed about those tickets. He'd probably have pistol whipped her if she overcooked his eggs or brought him the wrong slippers. The mother's comment that Bette was lucky to realize her mistake "in time", means while she was still a virgin. Girls who are damaged goods don't get to star in their own romance story, Bette!
Jesus, ask a girl out on a date, Stu. Don't make her stay late typing up reports while you admire her hair dome. Is it just me, or is Bette's hair growing larger? It appears to be collapsing under its own weight.
I've changed my mind, Bette is so guilty about the annulment that she must've stopped for a quickie with Paul before he figured out about those tickets. Also I can't believe Bette went out in the rain without an umbrella protecting her hair. Maybe she's fumbling in her pocket for a beehive-shaped rain bonnet.
Come to the park and mug me, Stu! Be my skulking footpad! In the fourth and fifth panels the Marvel artists were a little overwrought, you can tell they weren't used to drawing for girls. Stu looks like he's about to start like shaking Bette until spare change falls out of her pockets.
Oh shit, you were married for like 50 seconds, Bette. Stop being such a drama queen and kiss your boss! I think anything short of your boss whipping out his dick and insisting that you use it as a pen blotter wouldn't be considered sexual harassment in the 60's, and probably not even then.
New story on Monday, and make sure to vote in the new poll.