And I wonder if you're half as innocent as you were showin' me. Or if you thank him for his time and just never call again.

My Nan was here for Sunday lunch today.
During the chatting, having the meal, she was telling us stories of her youth.

It's now a few hours later, and I'm still trying to take in stories of how she flirted with all the boys, flashed more than the odd ankle to them, used to think nothing of getting blind drunk on weekends and have to be carried off to her bed, wherever that may have been....How she got caught trying to sneak back up to her room, halfway creeping upstairs, by her Dad. How her and her friends used to tuck their long dresses up into their knickers so they could ride on the handlebars on some handsome devils. How she give an extra bit of wiggle when she walked through the factory to collect the wages once a week, and how she would love all the wolf whistles.
And even to this day, she can remember names.
Sounds to me like my Nan was many a guy's worst nightmare.