Maybe it's the smoldering, come-hither glance.
Maybe it's the staid gravitas.
Maybe it's the smooth, monotonous droning.
Or maybe it's the long, leathery, horse-shaped face.
So ... some?
But whatever it is, ladies, I get it.
I don't blame or judge you. I know exactly what you're going through right now. The excitement, the palpitations, the yearning.
The urgent need to be vigorously "filibustered."
I get it.
I even agree with it.
Because ... right now ... if he asked me ... I think I just might let him.
I feel ... vulnerable.
And I like it.
Till next we meet ...