Here in the real world, love is blind. So are erections. We don’t really care what you look like as long as you have a vagina and don’t dry-heave when you see us naked. If women knew how unbelievably perverted we are, they wouldn’t even brush their hair. Napoleon said to Josephine, “I will return to Paris tomorrow evening. Don’t wash.” We want to inhale your flaws. As my buddy Sharky said, “Smelling a woman’s ass is a poor man’s Viagra.” Our testosterone is already airbrushing you into perfection the second you walk into the room. We have virtually no deal-breakers.
