"Sleep with a hair net," she said.  "It'll fix all your problems."

I was a little uncomfortable, so I went with the time-tested classics: flowers and a bottle of wine.  The rose stems weaved nicely between the webbing, but to be honest, the alcohol filtered right through her and left a puddle on the floor.  Undeterred, I made small talk for what must've seemed like hours before the moment of truth arrived.  Boldness surged within me, and I actually uttered the words, "Let's do this."  She didn't respond, but then she didn't have to.  We both knew what I meant, and we both wanted it. 

This morning, I woke up with mini-rope burns across my nether regions, my junk tangled in netting, and my coiffure still a fromop.  Damn you, Honeygloom.  I'm never taking your advice again.