If my girlfriend can do (and enjoy it) you can too.
Uh, but I'm CERTAIN there are things your girlfriend does, and enjoys, that we do not!
After saving my shekels for so many years, at last I had scraped together enough to realize my penultimate, and dearest, dream: to meet the wild Striped Haggis on his own turf, and best him by daunting and gunfire. I lovingly checked the action on my Webly & Scott 28-gauge boxlock, feeling again the fire run through my veins as the gun leapt to my shoulder. Ah, yes. My Webley No. 1 Mark VI .455 was checked for function as well- no especial task, since I perform 8,000 dryfirings a day with it- and, I was ready as rain, and born right.
Before long, all alone, I traipsed the murky moor. My guide was lost, and through the dim, I heard a mighty roar. My gun swung up, the beast, he charged, both barrels went KE-RACK! Taken by the thundrous rush, I lay upon my back. Close by, cruel Haggi turned again upon his prey.
Struggling to an elbow, the Webley flew to hand. I dealt out a stream of fire as we met, beast to man. My Webley went POP-POP-POP, the monster ground his teeth. At long last, I knew 'twas true, this poor sod was dead meat. Had I come to die on the moor, this dreary day?
Bloody and broken, we faced our foes, this demon of mist, and I. Seeing his unbounded rage, a tear filled my eye. Laying down my steaming steel, I resolved to die. Thoughts of dear Buffy, and Mimi, and young Rupert, forced out a sigh. Well nigh, proud Haggi turned- and he strode away.