A big thanks to Esquire for saving the post-reproductive female from a half-lifetime of sad sack thumb twiddling. We are so lucky to have someone to appreciate our rapidly evaporating appeal, unlike these unfortunate 40-somethings of yesteryear. I feel like crying just looking at these old desperate hags.

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So just let us know when you want some hang-up-free gratitude sex.  That's what you liked about us anyway, isn't it? Or is it the fact that we all look alike under our summer dresses? Surprises can be undesirable in your cardiac demographic.    

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