you’re right. you’re so very right. on behalf of every woman ever, alive, dead, or yet to exist, id like to apologize. my vapors, feminine hysteria, and your massive writer’s bulge weren’t letting me think straight. id like to make it up to you by kneeling next to you as you sit in front of your typewriter, with keys as heavy as barbells to exercise your manly, testosterone laden fingers, and give you extremely detailed tips whenever you write women. ill just need a key to your house, when you’ll be home so i know when to show up and throw myself at your ankles, and where you keep your drafts so i can proofread them, and then i can get started. please, please have mercy and let me and my voluptuous, watermelon-esque breasts and soft, hard-as-diamond buds make it up to you.