New blog post up over at my new site -
I'll Be the Old Woman Carrying Booze Around in a Hot Water Bottle
Please click on the link and follow me by email over there. Thanks! Love you all!
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Thursday, August 23, 2012
My Blog is Moving, Please Follow Me
I am moving my blog over to another site. Please follow me there. Click here for new blog post:
Well There's Always Work in Fetish Films, Right?
Thanks for following!
XO,
Madge
Well There's Always Work in Fetish Films, Right?
Thanks for following!
XO,
Madge
Thursday, August 16, 2012
I Know You Want My Underwear...
I was having a major case of writer's block the last few days. So, I figured if I just start writing, it would flow. That's what happens a lot, I start writing about one thing and it usually changes into another. But as I was taking off my clothes to get in the shower, I realized... underwear is uncomfortable. There's a blog.
(I know that paragraph was a bit of a non sequitor, but that's part of my charm. :) Consider it literary ADD.)
Anyway, so I'm getting undressed and my underwear drops to the bathroom floor and I look at it. "Man that's uncomfortable, I'm glad to get that off", I think to myself. (or maybe I actually said it out loud, it was early, I do that sometimes) They were lacy boy shorts. You know what those are right, kinda' boxy? Although they were the sexy ones that are kind of cut in a V in the back, designed to have your buttcheeks hanging out the bottom? Bottom butt cleavage, I guess some people think it's hot. I just know it gives me a wedgie. Top butt cleavage is just your crack, that's not sexy, and it feels breezy.
Does underwear make the man? I mean woman... or man, no, er, uh whatever.
So I start thinking about women's underwear. Why can't we just be like dudes? You have, what... 3 types of underwear: tighty whities, boxers, and boxer-briefs? Well then I guess there are jock straps too, but I really don't know anyone who wears them anymore (I have a son who plays sports), guys all wear those shorts with the built in pocket to place the cup. Or if they just want mega support and to keep it from floppin', they just wear compression pants. Sorry for the visual. Oh wait, I guess I've seen thongs and bikinis for men too in catalogs. But I'm assuming only male strippers wear those, so they don't really count.
But we broads have a wide assortment, most of which are extremely uncomfortable. Tut, tut, tut, don't say it! I'm sorry, I find any chick highly suspect if she finds thongs comfortable. I call shenanigans on that. I think you say it just so guys think you're hot. I think men like the idea that we are somehow deriving sexual pleasure from a piece of fabric wedged between our buttcheeks all day. Seriously, I think that's part of the allure for men. Do you really think a piece of V shaped fabric between two bare asscheeks is sexy? Well ok, maybe you do, but I think they also like the idea of the illusion of personal pleasure. Whatever. And don't talk to me about commando, I don't want my junk rubbing against rough jean seams and zippers and stuff, not to mention unsanitary. Ouch and ew.
Hey I like to be sexy! I'll fake comfort and wear that stuff. But given my drothers, I'd rather don a big ole' comfy pair of cotton bikinis, that aren't too tight, aren't too loose, and stay in the right place, and I'm happy. Sans wedge.
Which brings me to another tangent. Women go through a lot of damn work and pain to make ourselves appealing to the opposite sex. Yes, yes granted we elect to do it, but truth is, if we didn't.. we would be the cheese standing alone. Not to mention, get passed up for jobs. You know it's true. Another fact is, you need to keep up with the Jones' in the appearance department. Society is a cruel place. It's judgemental. So we have to dye our hair, wear makeup, do our fingers and toes, wear ridiculous shoes, waxing, uncomfortable clothing and undergarments, not age (via botox, collagen, surgery, etc.) and still have a smile on our face through it all.
And what do men have to do? Not much. Some do a little. But let's face it, you can still be fat, bald and ugly and your woman will still love you because that's how we roll. This isn't a man hating rant, it just seems the only thing you had to do was be charming and chivalrous and now that has even gone out the window. And yes, I blame feminism and the sexual revolution a bit. When I was doing online dating, it seemed men would just send out mass emails with such catchy lines as "Wanna' meet?" or "Wanna' have sex? Here's a picture of my junk.". Actually that was pretty much the same thing in real life too. With all the new media, who has to try? I guess, it's just a numbers game now? Throw enough shit against the wall to see what sticks? And when it comes to an actual date, there's not much "trying to impress" going on. It's usually, here have a drink, and let's cut out the middle man of charming chit chat, let's go have sex.
I guess maybe I'm just bitter... or a realist. Romance is dead. Chivalry is dead. Civility is dead. Valuing character and non-artificial, girl next door looks, has gone the way of the dinosaur. I want to go back to the days of when sexy lingerie was panties that went from your thigh to your rib cage and a bra that looked like a missile silo. I miss ladies with arm hair and men that wore suits and hats on a date. I wish I lived in a world where foreplay wasn't just your lover asking you to bend over. Oh well, what can I do? I'm stuck now keeping up with my waxing and dying and dieting... but I'll be damned if I'm goint to wear uncomfortable underwear! Screw you, society! I'm a rebel like that.
(I know that paragraph was a bit of a non sequitor, but that's part of my charm. :) Consider it literary ADD.)
Anyway, so I'm getting undressed and my underwear drops to the bathroom floor and I look at it. "Man that's uncomfortable, I'm glad to get that off", I think to myself. (or maybe I actually said it out loud, it was early, I do that sometimes) They were lacy boy shorts. You know what those are right, kinda' boxy? Although they were the sexy ones that are kind of cut in a V in the back, designed to have your buttcheeks hanging out the bottom? Bottom butt cleavage, I guess some people think it's hot. I just know it gives me a wedgie. Top butt cleavage is just your crack, that's not sexy, and it feels breezy.
Does underwear make the man? I mean woman... or man, no, er, uh whatever.
So I start thinking about women's underwear. Why can't we just be like dudes? You have, what... 3 types of underwear: tighty whities, boxers, and boxer-briefs? Well then I guess there are jock straps too, but I really don't know anyone who wears them anymore (I have a son who plays sports), guys all wear those shorts with the built in pocket to place the cup. Or if they just want mega support and to keep it from floppin', they just wear compression pants. Sorry for the visual. Oh wait, I guess I've seen thongs and bikinis for men too in catalogs. But I'm assuming only male strippers wear those, so they don't really count.
But we broads have a wide assortment, most of which are extremely uncomfortable. Tut, tut, tut, don't say it! I'm sorry, I find any chick highly suspect if she finds thongs comfortable. I call shenanigans on that. I think you say it just so guys think you're hot. I think men like the idea that we are somehow deriving sexual pleasure from a piece of fabric wedged between our buttcheeks all day. Seriously, I think that's part of the allure for men. Do you really think a piece of V shaped fabric between two bare asscheeks is sexy? Well ok, maybe you do, but I think they also like the idea of the illusion of personal pleasure. Whatever. And don't talk to me about commando, I don't want my junk rubbing against rough jean seams and zippers and stuff, not to mention unsanitary. Ouch and ew.
Hey I like to be sexy! I'll fake comfort and wear that stuff. But given my drothers, I'd rather don a big ole' comfy pair of cotton bikinis, that aren't too tight, aren't too loose, and stay in the right place, and I'm happy. Sans wedge.
Which brings me to another tangent. Women go through a lot of damn work and pain to make ourselves appealing to the opposite sex. Yes, yes granted we elect to do it, but truth is, if we didn't.. we would be the cheese standing alone. Not to mention, get passed up for jobs. You know it's true. Another fact is, you need to keep up with the Jones' in the appearance department. Society is a cruel place. It's judgemental. So we have to dye our hair, wear makeup, do our fingers and toes, wear ridiculous shoes, waxing, uncomfortable clothing and undergarments, not age (via botox, collagen, surgery, etc.) and still have a smile on our face through it all.
And what do men have to do? Not much. Some do a little. But let's face it, you can still be fat, bald and ugly and your woman will still love you because that's how we roll. This isn't a man hating rant, it just seems the only thing you had to do was be charming and chivalrous and now that has even gone out the window. And yes, I blame feminism and the sexual revolution a bit. When I was doing online dating, it seemed men would just send out mass emails with such catchy lines as "Wanna' meet?" or "Wanna' have sex? Here's a picture of my junk.". Actually that was pretty much the same thing in real life too. With all the new media, who has to try? I guess, it's just a numbers game now? Throw enough shit against the wall to see what sticks? And when it comes to an actual date, there's not much "trying to impress" going on. It's usually, here have a drink, and let's cut out the middle man of charming chit chat, let's go have sex.
I guess maybe I'm just bitter... or a realist. Romance is dead. Chivalry is dead. Civility is dead. Valuing character and non-artificial, girl next door looks, has gone the way of the dinosaur. I want to go back to the days of when sexy lingerie was panties that went from your thigh to your rib cage and a bra that looked like a missile silo. I miss ladies with arm hair and men that wore suits and hats on a date. I wish I lived in a world where foreplay wasn't just your lover asking you to bend over. Oh well, what can I do? I'm stuck now keeping up with my waxing and dying and dieting... but I'll be damned if I'm goint to wear uncomfortable underwear! Screw you, society! I'm a rebel like that.
Thursday, August 9, 2012
A New Reality Show Based on My Cleavage
I don't know about you but I'm really freakin' sick and tired of total useless toolbags or dimwits being rewarded with TV shows, fame and money... just for being complete asshats!
I've been doing a lot of research while planning my next steps totake over the world refine and advance my career. Looking at what's trending, figuring out how to brand myself. Have you seen what's out there? Jesus, Mary and Joseph it's a sea of vapidity, shallowness, low IQs, boorish, low class behavior and violent personalities.
It seems the United States has set the bar incredibly low for entertainment and celebrity. I know there have been thousands of blogs and articles and commentaries on all the craptastic useless reality stars and their low rent television shows. But it goes for all forms of entertainment, TV, radio, books, magazines, blogs, theater.
All they do on these TV shows is feature incredibly dim people like Swamp People and Here Comes Honey Boo Boo, so we can laugh at them. Which honestly I think is a little mean, but obviously the dim bulbs don't care as long as they are getting a paycheck. Or they feature scantily clad ladies with bodies made by Mattel, like... picking dates or pulling hair (I don't even know what the plot of that Bad Girls Club is other than to have cat fights). Or they show ridiculously rich people with their horrendous problems like so and so didn't invite so and so on the girl's trip to London. F you! That's a major traumatic problem in your life? I'm insulted. Try my life, ya' twatmonster, you wouldn't survive.
Books - "Fifty Shades of Grey"? Really? Do you realize how terrible this book is? Dickens, F. Scott Fitzgerald, and Hemingway are probably rolling in their graves. Horribly written. And as a mature adult woman, I find the characters extremely offensive. I don't know if offensive is the right word. But the girl is everything that's wrong with women, and he's a controlling douchecopter. Having been married to one, I see nothing sexy about this at all and it's the kind of thing that leads women to thinking it's sexy and adventurous to get involved with a bad boy. Ok, not a bad boy, just an asshole.
Blogs? Don't mean to sound like I'm better than anyone, but some of y'all just ain't funny. Probably not anyone that reads this blog, because you all are smart and have good taste. :) But I've seen some of the really popular blogs and it's just not funny, and the readers are acting like it's the most outrageous hilarious stuff ever, like when the blogger calls herself a hot mess. Ok that term was so 5 years ago. These people probably still laugh out loud to episodes of "Full House" and write ROFLMFAO to "I can haz cheezburger" memes. (some are worth a chuckle, but c'mon) Did I even write that acronym correctly? I've never written it before in my life.
Theater - "Bring It On, the Musical"? The cheerleading movie, really? 'nuf said.
So yea, I'm jealous. Envious, jealous, whatever it takes. I've worked hard, raised 3 very smart kids on my own after their Dad took off, and I work a few jobs. I don't want to be poor anymore, I want that big paycheck. I want to meet Andy Cohen! I want to have a makeover and be dressed by a stylist. F*ck yea, you bet I do! So, what can I do?
I need an angle, a gimmick, something to brand me. No I don't want burning metal on my flesh, I mean to package and advertise me, make me a brand name. What have I got that's special? Humor? Well maybe, I don't know, funny to some, not funny to others. I'm mature yet hip? Maybe, but I'm not uber hip, I couldn't critique club DJs for Rolling Stone or anything. I'm not gorgeous, not hideous, but not gorgeous. But I have been told I have a nice rack. Even by the select few that have seen me naked said I have the boobs of a 25-30 yr old (hey at 47 that's a huge compliment) even after having 3 kids! And yes, they are real. My secret is, I didn't get them til I was about 40, they haven't had time to sag. Well, maybe I had them before, I just didn't notice, I was modest. I gained about 15 lbs and suddenly got ample bosoms. And I have amazing bras. You have no idea what a good bra can do. ;)
So, that's it. I will try to pitch every media outlet in the world to get a reality show for my rack. A rack could have a reality show, right? I mean, most shows are just about looking at racks anyway right? Just cut out the middle man, don't need vapid girls with dumb premises, just feature my rack. "Madge's Rack".
Oops, need to lighten it up, too emo, too much face in that one...
We could feature my boobs on a nice night out, a wacky date or something (too much plot?)...
My rack is even religious and attends church...
We can show my rack at work, writing...
We can show my rack eating my daily meals...
I would have to show facial expressions with my rack once in a while, ugh I'm not happy to see you...
And then I'll throw in something completely different once in a while so that the low brow folks have something to laugh at and relate to...
Well there ya' have it. My new show, featuring my brand... my rack. I could also write blogs, books, and radio shows centered around my rack. Whattaya' think? Hey if you're having trouble leaving a comment here, go to my Facebook page and leave a comment (you have to like it first) Madge's Adult Survival Guide Facebook Page . Just waitin' for those offers to roll in now...
I've been doing a lot of research while planning my next steps to
It seems the United States has set the bar incredibly low for entertainment and celebrity. I know there have been thousands of blogs and articles and commentaries on all the craptastic useless reality stars and their low rent television shows. But it goes for all forms of entertainment, TV, radio, books, magazines, blogs, theater.
All they do on these TV shows is feature incredibly dim people like Swamp People and Here Comes Honey Boo Boo, so we can laugh at them. Which honestly I think is a little mean, but obviously the dim bulbs don't care as long as they are getting a paycheck. Or they feature scantily clad ladies with bodies made by Mattel, like... picking dates or pulling hair (I don't even know what the plot of that Bad Girls Club is other than to have cat fights). Or they show ridiculously rich people with their horrendous problems like so and so didn't invite so and so on the girl's trip to London. F you! That's a major traumatic problem in your life? I'm insulted. Try my life, ya' twatmonster, you wouldn't survive.
Books - "Fifty Shades of Grey"? Really? Do you realize how terrible this book is? Dickens, F. Scott Fitzgerald, and Hemingway are probably rolling in their graves. Horribly written. And as a mature adult woman, I find the characters extremely offensive. I don't know if offensive is the right word. But the girl is everything that's wrong with women, and he's a controlling douchecopter. Having been married to one, I see nothing sexy about this at all and it's the kind of thing that leads women to thinking it's sexy and adventurous to get involved with a bad boy. Ok, not a bad boy, just an asshole.
Blogs? Don't mean to sound like I'm better than anyone, but some of y'all just ain't funny. Probably not anyone that reads this blog, because you all are smart and have good taste. :) But I've seen some of the really popular blogs and it's just not funny, and the readers are acting like it's the most outrageous hilarious stuff ever, like when the blogger calls herself a hot mess. Ok that term was so 5 years ago. These people probably still laugh out loud to episodes of "Full House" and write ROFLMFAO to "I can haz cheezburger" memes. (some are worth a chuckle, but c'mon) Did I even write that acronym correctly? I've never written it before in my life.
Theater - "Bring It On, the Musical"? The cheerleading movie, really? 'nuf said.
So yea, I'm jealous. Envious, jealous, whatever it takes. I've worked hard, raised 3 very smart kids on my own after their Dad took off, and I work a few jobs. I don't want to be poor anymore, I want that big paycheck. I want to meet Andy Cohen! I want to have a makeover and be dressed by a stylist. F*ck yea, you bet I do! So, what can I do?
I need an angle, a gimmick, something to brand me. No I don't want burning metal on my flesh, I mean to package and advertise me, make me a brand name. What have I got that's special? Humor? Well maybe, I don't know, funny to some, not funny to others. I'm mature yet hip? Maybe, but I'm not uber hip, I couldn't critique club DJs for Rolling Stone or anything. I'm not gorgeous, not hideous, but not gorgeous. But I have been told I have a nice rack. Even by the select few that have seen me naked said I have the boobs of a 25-30 yr old (hey at 47 that's a huge compliment) even after having 3 kids! And yes, they are real. My secret is, I didn't get them til I was about 40, they haven't had time to sag. Well, maybe I had them before, I just didn't notice, I was modest. I gained about 15 lbs and suddenly got ample bosoms. And I have amazing bras. You have no idea what a good bra can do. ;)
So, that's it. I will try to pitch every media outlet in the world to get a reality show for my rack. A rack could have a reality show, right? I mean, most shows are just about looking at racks anyway right? Just cut out the middle man, don't need vapid girls with dumb premises, just feature my rack. "Madge's Rack".
Oops, need to lighten it up, too emo, too much face in that one...
We could feature my boobs on a nice night out, a wacky date or something (too much plot?)...
My rack is even religious and attends church...
We can show my rack at work, writing...
Take a look at my rack doing daily housework...
I would have to show facial expressions with my rack once in a while, ugh I'm not happy to see you...
Look at my rack, it's ready for a formal event...
Gratuitous full body bikini shot (no stunt double)...
And my rack, in a highly dramatic plot twist (the hand to the mouth is my signature pose, it means I'm demure, yet filthy)... oh I forgot there are no plots in my show, well maybe a little...
Well there ya' have it. My new show, featuring my brand... my rack. I could also write blogs, books, and radio shows centered around my rack. Whattaya' think? Hey if you're having trouble leaving a comment here, go to my Facebook page and leave a comment (you have to like it first) Madge's Adult Survival Guide Facebook Page . Just waitin' for those offers to roll in now...
Thursday, August 2, 2012
Your Worst Date is Someone Else's Best Date
The subject of perception has been on my mind a lot lately. It all started with going to my niece's wedding in Orting, WA a few weeks ago. My niece told me that the only music that would be played would be country and some old rock. I immediately got agida because I absolutely hate country music. I was prepared for the worst.
I'll tell you what happened after these messages...
About 10 years ago I dated this guy a bit when I lived in Denver. I had been divorced for about 2 years and was hoping to finally find some romance. He certainly seemed charming. So charming that he conned me into thinking he was an ex-NHL player, which I found out later was untrue via the wonders of that newfangled Google. Anyway, he was charming, sent me flowers, the whole shabang.
Valentine's Day was coming. Oh boy, this is it, he's romantic, this is gonna' be killer. Finally! I hadn't had a romantic Valentine's Day in years!
Days before Valentine's Day he says he will pick me up that night at 6pm, and it's a surprise where we're going. Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy. The day arrives, he picks me up at 6pm, and he starts driving out of town. *squeal* He starts driving toward the mountains. *squeal*. He's driving further up the windy mountain roads. Surely we're going to a quaint bed and breakfast... but he didn't tell me to pack a bag? Oh well, who needs clothes, right? Forty Five minutes later we arrive at our destination...
A casino.
Hmmm, well it's a casino in a hotel, maybe we are eating at a great restaurant and spending the night!
We park the car and go inside. And he stops at a blackjack table. He sits down. Lights up a cigarette. And starts to play. While I... just stand there.
Uh, oooooook.
Three things you should know about me - 1. I don't particularly care for casinos. 2. I can't stand cigarette smoke. 3. I hate gambling or playing any card games or slot machines.
I stood and looked around. Homeboy was kind of oblivious because he was thrilled to be there. I let him play for a while and then finally I announced I was hungry. He said, great we can take care of that. I thought, ok we'll have a nice meal and it will be a wash.
We walk around, he's looking around like he's trying to find something. I said, "Did you have a reservation somewhere?". He answers no. *red flag* It's Valentine's Day, no ressie, no eatie. But we keep walking... and then he's tickled pink he's found the answer to our prayers!
A buffet.
Yes, a classic casino buffet restaurant that you stand in line for half an hour to eat imitation crab legs and industrial mashed potatoes. It was God awful.
I tried to be polite and grateful. I ate, watched him play and smoke some more and then we went home. He did not get him any.
I've told this story to many people over the years and multiple times people said, "That sounds like a great date to me!". Which made me feel like I was some sort of snobby bastard, but the fact is that it was just everything I don't personally care for. It's fine if you like that stuff, but I was miserable because he never did ask me once what I did like to do! A perfect date to me is a good dinner in an upscale restaurant or homecooked, and then a night in a room with flowers and candles and a fireplace. Now some of you may hate that, but it's my perception of romance. Did he ever even ask if I liked casinos? That would be a no.
So back to present day and my niece's wedding... we go to the wedding and it's like Country Mouse and City Mouse. A lot of my family are East Coast city people. My niece lives in rural Washington state. They like hunting, fishing, country music, and pickup trucks. Yes, yes there was a bit of that, but they were also nice people that like to have fun. And honestly my niece's first dance with her husband was the most romantic thing I'd ever seen. She was wearing a traditional white cotton strapless gown, and he was in jeans, cowboy boots, white button down, brown vest. They danced to a slow country song (don't ask me the artist, I don't listen to that stuff), but they started to do a little slow two step. My heart melted and I began to tear up. That was their perfect idea of romance and their perfect wedding.
Perception. Is perception reality? It's my reality, it's your reality. But in the end, it's just perception. (Man, I'm deep) :)
Tell me about your worst/best date the the other party perceived as the opposite...
I'll tell you what happened after these messages...
About 10 years ago I dated this guy a bit when I lived in Denver. I had been divorced for about 2 years and was hoping to finally find some romance. He certainly seemed charming. So charming that he conned me into thinking he was an ex-NHL player, which I found out later was untrue via the wonders of that newfangled Google. Anyway, he was charming, sent me flowers, the whole shabang.
Valentine's Day was coming. Oh boy, this is it, he's romantic, this is gonna' be killer. Finally! I hadn't had a romantic Valentine's Day in years!
Days before Valentine's Day he says he will pick me up that night at 6pm, and it's a surprise where we're going. Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy. The day arrives, he picks me up at 6pm, and he starts driving out of town. *squeal* He starts driving toward the mountains. *squeal*. He's driving further up the windy mountain roads. Surely we're going to a quaint bed and breakfast... but he didn't tell me to pack a bag? Oh well, who needs clothes, right? Forty Five minutes later we arrive at our destination...
A casino.
Hmmm, well it's a casino in a hotel, maybe we are eating at a great restaurant and spending the night!
We park the car and go inside. And he stops at a blackjack table. He sits down. Lights up a cigarette. And starts to play. While I... just stand there.
Uh, oooooook.
Three things you should know about me - 1. I don't particularly care for casinos. 2. I can't stand cigarette smoke. 3. I hate gambling or playing any card games or slot machines.
I stood and looked around. Homeboy was kind of oblivious because he was thrilled to be there. I let him play for a while and then finally I announced I was hungry. He said, great we can take care of that. I thought, ok we'll have a nice meal and it will be a wash.
We walk around, he's looking around like he's trying to find something. I said, "Did you have a reservation somewhere?". He answers no. *red flag* It's Valentine's Day, no ressie, no eatie. But we keep walking... and then he's tickled pink he's found the answer to our prayers!
A buffet.
Yes, a classic casino buffet restaurant that you stand in line for half an hour to eat imitation crab legs and industrial mashed potatoes. It was God awful.
I tried to be polite and grateful. I ate, watched him play and smoke some more and then we went home. He did not get him any.
I've told this story to many people over the years and multiple times people said, "That sounds like a great date to me!". Which made me feel like I was some sort of snobby bastard, but the fact is that it was just everything I don't personally care for. It's fine if you like that stuff, but I was miserable because he never did ask me once what I did like to do! A perfect date to me is a good dinner in an upscale restaurant or homecooked, and then a night in a room with flowers and candles and a fireplace. Now some of you may hate that, but it's my perception of romance. Did he ever even ask if I liked casinos? That would be a no.
So back to present day and my niece's wedding... we go to the wedding and it's like Country Mouse and City Mouse. A lot of my family are East Coast city people. My niece lives in rural Washington state. They like hunting, fishing, country music, and pickup trucks. Yes, yes there was a bit of that, but they were also nice people that like to have fun. And honestly my niece's first dance with her husband was the most romantic thing I'd ever seen. She was wearing a traditional white cotton strapless gown, and he was in jeans, cowboy boots, white button down, brown vest. They danced to a slow country song (don't ask me the artist, I don't listen to that stuff), but they started to do a little slow two step. My heart melted and I began to tear up. That was their perfect idea of romance and their perfect wedding.
Perception. Is perception reality? It's my reality, it's your reality. But in the end, it's just perception. (Man, I'm deep) :)
Tell me about your worst/best date the the other party perceived as the opposite...
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