In my 2nd year at University, I became fairly serious about Gabriella, a fellow student. Well, serious enough to take her home and meet my parents. My mother hated her on sight. However, in a typical bourgeois fashion, she never made comments about Gabriella that were less than totally positive. Quoting from memory, these are some of the things she said, and (in brackets), what I thought she really meant:

Shes vivacious
(Shes as high as a kite and a total bore)
She has a sparkling conversation
(She talks non-stop about herself, in a shrill voice)
She has an endearing accent
(Her peasant upbringing shows clearly)
Shes a careful driver
(But a reckless flier, on her broomstick)
I gather shes very popular
(I gather she sleeps around a lot)
She has a trim body
(Shes a carpenters dream: flat as a board and easy to screw)
She has nice legs
(Pity about the hair)
I gather shes interested in art
(I gather she has a phenomenal collection of centerfolds from HUNKS magazine)
Shes too young to marry
(I gave you life and I will take it away, if you even think marrying her)

I did not marry Gabriella. She married a Veterinary Doctor, had a number of adorable cats and two appalling children.