Blanche: Honey, it's a terrible thing to do something out of guilt. Believe me, I know. Just about the time that George and I were getting serious, he was shipped off to Korea. Well, I wanted to do my part for the war effort, so I took a job in a factory that made canteens. I figured that one of the canteens that I had riveted would somehow find its way to George, and his lips would drink from the galvanized spout I had so lovingly fashioned, thereby symbolically reuniting us.
Rose: Oh, Blanche, that's a beautiful reason to take that job.
Blanche: Well, that wasn't the only reason. That factory also had a comprehensive dental plan, and I was in desperate need of a bridge and two crowns.
Dorothy: War is hell.
Blanche: So were my teeth. Anyway, while I was working on that assembly line, why, I met a young man named Andrew Beandorf. Oh, it was just a platonic thing. We just went out to the movies and dinner. But when George came home on leave, he was furious. He accused me, unjustly, of infidelity while he was off fighting in some foreign land, some godforsaken land where people didn't even believe in Jesus. And he forbade me ever to see Andrew again. So, of course, I didn't.
Dorothy: So you lost a good friend just because George made you feel guilty about it.
Blanche: That's right. I lost a good friend and a wonderful companion and an excellent lover.
Rose: An excellent lover?
Blanche: Did I say "excellent lover"? Oh, no, I meant excellent riveter.
Dorothy: I can understand how you could confuse the two.
Blanche: Anyway, the point is guilt is a very bad thing. Story over.