A while back, when I was considerably younger, I picked up a lovely date at her parents’ home.
I’d scraped together some money to take her to a fancy restaurant.
She ordered the most expensive items on the menu.
Champagne. Shrimp cocktail. Lobster. A nice Puligny Montrachet followed by some Louis XIII.
I asked her, "Does your mother feed you like that when you eat at home?"
"No," she replied, "but my mother’s not expecting a blowjob tonight."
I asked her if she wanted dessert.