Don't say I didn't warn you...
A nubile young flautist once joined an orchestra in the hope of meeting nice men.
The most handsome man there was the smooth trumpet player, so she inviegled her way into his affections and they went out on a date.
She turned up at the next rehearsal very unimpressed. What was wrong, asked her friends? Oh, he was a terrible kisser, she said, that tight, dry, puckered-up embrochure - awful!
So her friends consoled her and suggest she go for the macho tuba player, and she duly goes out to dinner with him.
Returns equally unimpressed. What was wrong, ask her friends? Oh, he was an even worse kisser, she said - those flobbery, slobbery lips - revolting!
One of her friends suggests the French horn player. No way, she said, he's shorter than me and nothing to look at. Go on, urges the friend, what have you got to lose?
So off she goes, and comes to the next rehearsal with a great big grin.
What happened? they say.
The flautist smiles enigmatically. 'Well, he may not be much to look at, and he wasn't an awfully good kisser, but my goodness, the way he held me!'