At work yesterday, I got a marriage proposal from a 64-year-old woman who was in, umm, an "altered mental status."
I went to pick her up from her room for an MRI, and her two daughters were waiting there with her. She expressed some fear of the machine, which led me to do my aww-shucks-it'll-all-be-OK-lemme-hold-your-hand routine. Taken with emotion, she looked into my eyes and asked, "You're so wonderful. Will you marry me?"
My response: "I can't. I'm already happily taken."
Her daughters laughed, finding the whole thing adorable.
Her next question: "Does she treat you right?"
My response: "I'm treated well, yes."
So we get her into the wheelchair and go to the elevator, leaving her daughters to wait in her hospital room. As soon as the door closes, she asks the question again, but with different emphasis, and a suggestive wink/smile combo:
"So.. does she TREAT you RIGHT? Eh.. eh?"
Her smiling, predatory now eyes darted back-and-forth from my eyes, to my crotch, and back to my eyes again.
My response: "He treats me very well. I'm a lucky, lucky man."
Her grumbling reaction: "Well, SHIT! Now I really know I don't have a shot!"
(edit: and she kinda resembled Jessica Tandy, but with insane-bag-lady hair.)