“Well, what should have happened was that he spotted you across the room, and then parted the crowd with his massive shoulders and thighs so he could get to you. Then he should have swept you off your feet and carried you back to his place for six days and seven nights of lovemaking.” “Like, would that have been so hard? Men. Honestly.” She sighed. “I’m going to die alone.” “You’re not. You’re going to die during a threesome with Oscar Isaac and Michael B. Jordan.” “That’s really nice of you to say.”
