I don’t know how you sucked me into Age of Love.  It was probably the same thing that got me, who hates sports, avidly watching tennis in the nineties… your rugged good looks…. Your aussie accent…. Your ridiculously bushy eyebrows.   Also, that there’s nothing else on, on primetime Monday nights. Regardless, as I was reminded at every break, you had a bevy of women fawning over you: were you going to pick a women in her TWENTIES or her FORTIES?!

All the twenty-somethings were whiny and stupid.  All the forty-somethings were milfy, Mrs. Robinson types.  And finally, it came down to two.
Amanda, the uninteresting “hockey team dancer” who was twenty-five (how does a hockey team have dancers?)

And Jenn, the forty-eight year old COUGAR who was hot, smart, and fun!

Um, hi. If I look like that when I am forty-eight.. hell, half that good..I would be one sexy mama.

And you picked, of course, the boring, vanilla choice.  Blah blah blah you’re stupid.  I thought you were kind of cool, but now I see you have no taste.  Fuck you, and fuck me for wasting all this time watching this bunk.

– Me.