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One Out of Ten Women Get Depressed After Sex
While sex is usually associated with ecstasy, for some women getting it in is anything but joyous.
According to a new study published in the the International Journal of Sexual Health, a third of women under 35 say they often feel sad, anxious, restless or irritable after sex. Further more, 10 percent of the women surveyed admitted to frequently or almost always feel sad after their romp in the sheets was done.
While previous research has shown a connection between depression following casual sex, the women in the study were not experiencing the blues as a result of a one night stand. In fact, many of them were in established relationships and still felt the nagging feelings after having sex with the ones they were with.
Speaking on her emotions in relation to her romantic relationship, one of the respondents said:
“I did not associate the feeling with an absence of love or affection for my sexual partner nor with an absence of love or affection from them towards me, because it seemed so unconnected with them.”
The study has many researchers fuddled. The definite cause for “post-coital sadness” as it is known in the psychological community, remains unknown. While researchers note that these feels are common in women who approach sexual intercourse with histories of sexual abuse often associate making love with an overwhelming sense of guilt. However, this is not seen as a constant with the women interviewed for the study, so researchers will be looking next at the different personalities of the women. Researchers hope that by examining their personality types, they can find a connection between how the women describe themselves and how they experience the act of having sex.
This article was originally posted in Clutch on April 11, 2011.
Sample comments from readers
I experience this. When I was having sex this is something I experienced. Hmm…Could be personality types…
I would imagine that women my age at least (over 40) may still have some guilt tied up with sex. Growing up in the 60′s and being browbeaten, threatened and dared not to “keep your dress down and your panties up”, by the time many women did get some, they felt too guilty about it to enjoy it. And then these women raised their daughters this same way as they were raised, which would explain younger women suffering from the same emotional malady. We pass along a lot of twisted notions to our kids sometimes, even when we know it’s not right.
Maybe it is due to dissatisfaction cause ain’t nothing worst than getting all horny and having the inability to put the fire out. And perhaps they may be unable to achieve orgasms that is something i think should be explored as well.
I had that problem in the past but for some reason, it hasn’t occurred in a very long time. I have also experienced extreme agitation and anger, but um, I’m sure that was due to not being satisfied.
i get irritable when i don’t have an orgasm. this is why i believe in using a magic wand. go get one – around $35. best money you will ever spend.
My thoughts:
In cultures that are sex-positive for women, women enjoy sex a great deal and are highly orgasmic. Something is terribly wrong in our society for one-third of American women to feel sad or anxious after sex.
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Men: Erotic Objects of Women’s Gaze
Michelangelo’s “David” — a view from behind.
A nude woman frolics in silhouette as clothed men sleuth about, guns in hand and feet in chase. These images introduce The Spy Who Loved Me.
Flipping through TV stations the other day, this Bond rerun caught my eye and left me imagining the reverse: a nude man cavorting about as clothed women raced in pursuit of criminals. Weird.
The female body is celebrated – or exploited – while the male body is ignored.
Check out People’s sexiest men and you will see face shots, loose T-shirts, and very few rippled muscles. Who could imagine a “sexiest woman” shoot sans bodies.
Searching for a calendar of sexy men at Boarders, the closest I could find was Barack Obama.
Yeah, yeah, there is the occasional men’s underwear ad, but they are rare.
No wonder women don’t spend a lot of time checking out men’s bodies, ogling them or judging them.
A man commented on one of my posts that (to paraphrase):
Not only are men not considered erotic, they are often used to get laughs. In Seinfeld, Elaine referred to the male body as “utilitarian,” implying that the female is much more erotic. George Costanza became a victim of “shrinkage.” Scenes of Johnny Knoxville running around in a thong get chuckles.
Why is the male body so de-eroticized?
One possibility: Men have historically controlled media, and they focus on what they find sexy (about 95% of them anyway). Homophobia further hinders eroticization. As women enter the industry we find more focus on men, but still not much compared with women. Meanwhile, showered with sexy-women images from the time they are small, even women come to find women the sexier of the species.
What if the world were to switch? Suddenly, a universe of men in Speedo’s?
What if women became subject, and men erotic object for women to gaze upon? What if women sought to consume men as objects? Judging them, grading their beauty? Would women feel empowered, experiencing themselves on the “person” side of the person/object divide?
Something to think about.
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Super Sloppy 17ths
By Genevieve Dempre
I realized I was a feminist the first time I gave myself permission to be angry with men. My first boyfriend in high school spent a lot of time undermining me in ways that felt like love. He’d tell me I was pretty but not sexy, and then have sex with me. He’d tell me I was smart, but then laugh with his brothers at how I was “ditzy.” He’d look deep into my eyes and tell me the world was ours, and how much he loved me, then tell me I was being crazy when I’d call him more than he liked, or when I’d ask for anything at all. He gave me what he wanted to give me when he wanted to give it to me, and I got to tell myself over and over again that it was what being in love was like.
That guy broke my heart when he broke up with me, and I felt like I lost my whole world. He made me feel like my world wasn’t any bigger than him and that any attempts to make it so were a result of me being “crazy.” After that I gravitated towards any guy who made me feel validated for a few minutes. I wanted to be friends with guys only—I told myself that women were catty and shallow, and that I just got along better with guys. Looking back on that time, I was desperately unhappy and also desperate to be someone who mattered. And the only people I knew who mattered were men.
I sat through marathon sports sessions and pretended to care. I cooked and I cleaned and I fetched beer and I sat by while guys made comments about other girls … girls who weren’t me, because I certainly wasn’t that girl. I wasn’t stupid and slutty and weak, I wasn’t obsessed with Sex and the City and bad alcohol, and I certainly didn’t get easily offended like all those other girls did, by stuff like porn and strippers and sexual comments.
I could keep that face on until I couldn’t. And that’s when the shortfalls of these guys became painfully apparent. When I missed my first boyfriend so much, I cried during sex with a one night stand and the guy asked if I was OK—and when I said yes, he kept going while I kept crying. When a guy cheated on his girlfriend with me and—nevermind that I was drunk and he was four years older and it was my first week of college—she stayed in a relationship with him but made sure everyone we knew heard about what an evil, dirty, boyfriend-stealing slut I was. When I was too drunk to drive home and asked a male acquaintance to drive me, and we had sex that I don’t fully remember—but he told everyone. And this stuff happened again and again, until it culminated in a night when at a fraternity party, someone grabbed a microphone and asked if anyone wanted their turn at “super sloppy seventeenths” with me.
I dropped out of school then. I felt so worthless I wanted to die. Everyone had figured it out: I was weak, worthless, stupid, and worst of all, a total whore. And after I hit rock-bottom I started to wonder why. Why was it that sex meant that something had been taken away from me and given to some guy? Why was it that guys could shamelessly talk about their sex lives, but I was supposed to be ashamed of mine? Where exactly did this slut label that was breaking my heart come from?
And then the first guy came back. After another painfully draining relationship with him, I got the opportunity to tell him to go fuck himself, to get his things out of the house and leave me to my life. I finally started living for myself. And I realized that straight white men are given power, but the rest of us have to find ours. That made me so angry and so determined at the same time, and something inside me fundamentally changed: I stopped accepting things for what they are and started asking questions about why they are that way. This changed my career trajectory in an insanely positive way. It changed how I relate to men, which led to a fantastic, egalitarian relationship with a man I plan to marry (I’m the one who proposed). And perhaps most importantly, it led to some deeply rewarding friendships with other women. Whom I stopped viewing as the enemy in my quest for male validation and started to see as fellow survivors of the patriarchy.
I found feminism like some people find religion. It changed my life and it made me whole.
This was originally posted on the Ms. Magazine Blog on March 31, 2011. The piece was part of a week-long blog carnival in honor of Feminist Coming Out Day.
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She Drinks, She Flirts, She Passes Out … Is It Rape?
Around midnight at a college party, several young women soccer players are alerted that a 17-year-old girl is barricaded in a room with eight guys on the baseball team. Through a window, the women glimpse what looks like an assault.
They batter down the door and, as the men disperse, find a young, semi-conscious woman on her back, unmoving and naked from the waist down. Vomit trickles from her mouth down the side of her face and collects in a pool. Blood runs from her genitals. She mumbles, “I’m sorry.”
The women lift up the teen, wipe the vomit from her face, carry her to their car and drive her to a hospital. The next day, the girl remembers nothing.
This is the scene the soccer players and other witnesses describe at a De Anza College party in San Jose four years ago. Is it rape?
The case has just been tried in civil court because the Santa Clara, Calif., district attorney felt there was not enough evidence to criminally prosecute, since all involved were drunk.
In civil court, witnesses for the defense supplied other details. Earlier in the night, the girl was drunk and flirting. She rubbed up against a young man and grabbed his genitals. She performed a bawdy lap dance in front of other party-goers. She made a graphic sexual invitation.
Is it rape?
Today, the jury in the civil suit found the defendants not liable on any of 10 charges, including two counts of rape. I am not surprised.
I am not surprised because as a culture we are sorely unaware of the dynamics of rape and its motivations.
But I believe a rape did occur, and here’s why.
Rape is sex without consent, plain and simple. In this case, the plaintiff argued that there was no consent because the woman was intoxicated, unconscious, or both. Everyone agreed that six or seven hours after the alleged assault, the young woman’s blood-alcohol level was at least twice the legal limit for driving under the influence. However, unlike drunk-driving, there is no legal limit at which a blood alcohol level automatically indicates lack of consent. Hence, the plaintiff and defense argued over the timing of the teen’s peak blood alcohol level.
The defense expert testified that the teen had not reached peak blood alcohol level until after she had left the bedroom, while the plaintiff’s toxicology expert testified that she had reached peak level while in the bedroom. So expert evidence is contradictory.
However, when the soccer girls found the young woman, they say she was passed out on the bed and in need of help to rise up and walk to a car. That sounds like “peak level”–or at least, a level at which consent was impossible–before she left the bedroom.
Rapists rape for different reasons. Gang rapes, which are most common among sports teams, fraternities and criminal gangs, are often male bonding rituals meant to degrade a woman as men enact male superiority.
This was sex with a nearly comatose girl, an object–a sex object–used by others. The whole scenario looked more like a degradation ceremony than sex. One man left the room and told a friend, “There is a girl … basically getting gang banged.” Yet when the soccer players forced their way into the room, another man allegedly branded the teen, “a ho” who “wanted it.”
Another young woman came forward to say that one of the baseball players had raped her in the same small room 10 weeks before. But his insurance company settled last week, making him no longer a defendant and testimony about him inadmissible.
Defense attorneys asserted everything was on the up-and-up, insisting, “If it weren’t for the soccer girls, we wouldn’t be here.” The plaintiff rebutted: “If it weren’t for the soccer girls, the attack would have continued,” adding, “For how long? Hours? Would she have woken up in the morning?”
Some still, horrendously, blame the victim: She should have known better than to let herself get drunk, they say. The accused insisted she invited the behavior. She had propositioned the men.
Was the teen an unwise, and possibly troubled, girl? Maybe. Was she raped? By any reasonable standard, yes.
This post originally appeared in the Ms. Magazine Blog April 8, 2011
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Men Prefer Great Hair Over Big Breasts?
Sixty percent of men would rather date a woman with great hair than big breasts. Fabulous hair also topped low-cut blouses when it came to alluring men in bars. So says a recent survey reported in Glamour.
Do keep in mind that 40% chose breasts over hair. So if you’re well-endowed, not to worry.
Is this true? Some wonder. After all, Pantene commissioned the study.
The research has been picked up and widely reported. Here are a few comments from men on the topic.
- On my list of attributes I wanted, “hair longer than mine” ranked well above “a chest larger than mine.”
- The face/hair falls #1 on the thing my friends and I notice first about attractive ladies. It’s not that we ignore the other blessings bestowed upon a beautiful woman, but what’s above the neckline determines approachability and friendliness and gives a much better sense of the person than cleavage. I have no friends who discriminate based on cup size, and bras today can make Betty White’s breasts appear firm. (NOTE: Admittedly, I’m almost 40. So maybe we older dudes judge by different standards.)
- We would notice your curves first, ass, chest, legs and the way you stand. But your head will become our primary focus after that. Your face, your hair, your smile is what charm us. We really notice your hairstyle, especially if it’s a nice cut. It’s also a mirror of your personality, of how you can take care of yourself, it’s feminine and sexy.
The survey results make some sense. Keira Knightley and Paris Hilton have both landed on FHM’s “sexiest women” list. They both have great hair, but little cleavage. A past roommate of mine had gorgeous hair and face but very little “up top,” as they say, yet men went nuts for her.
Related research shows that men usually rank face over body in some circumstances too. Surprising? Given a choice between seeing a woman’s face or body, 75% of men preferred to see face for long-term relationships, compared with 51% who wanted to see body for a short fling.
Overall, I would call this good news. First, maintaining beautiful hair is not dangerous, unlike going under a knife for implants.
And, I appreciate the sense that face and hair reveal personality and give a sense of who the woman is, while cleavage does not. Men caring more about women as people than objects. Who knew?
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Feminist Click Moment: You’re Against Battered Women’s Shelters?!
“We’ve got to stop those feminists from setting up a battered women’s shelter!”
So proclaimed my piano teacher in numerous post-lesson conversations with my mom. When she wasn’t grumbling about shelters she was remarking on how lovely Phyllis Schlafly’s bouffant looked alongside those long-haired feminists.
I didn’t get it. “Why doesn’t she want shelters?” I asked my mom.
Mom didn’t get it either. “I suppose she’s concerned that they don’t have the right training to run one,” she speculated.
Actually, my piano teacher probably didn’t know why she was against shelters, either. Aligned with “the F-word,” they must be bad.
None of us knew. But as it turns out, the whole family-values agenda that my teacher so revered was intent on maintaining male power and female submission.
My piano teacher was a member of my church. Back then, in the ’70s, Mormonism was in major backlash against the feminist movement. And that gave rise to a series of little “clicks,” leading up to a major feminist “click” moment for me.
In my church’s backlash, women were suddenly forbidden from leading prayer during worship services. Worse yet (to me), girls had to wear dresses to “Activity Night,” and lessons on the importance of marriage overtook other activities.
Priesthood, forbidden to women, is bestowed upon all males at age 12. If gender inequality were not bad enough, watching my late-maturing boy-peers take on that mantel seemed ludicrous. I was especially not happy when my little brother received the priesthood. Worse, my divorced mother then declared him “head of home,” presiding over my grandmother, mother and me. I wasn’t having any of it, so that befuddled notion never became reality.
The final click? The proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back? Although Mormonism gave up polygamy (“Mormon Fundamentalists” keep the tradition), from the time I was little I was taught that polygamy was the way of Heaven because, ironically, women were sweeter in spirit so there would be more of us up there. I suddenly realized that if I were the best person I could be, my eternal reward would be second-class status as a woman and marriage to a polygamous man. Heaven? Sounded more like Hell to me.
Interestingly, I attended my old congregation a while back while visiting my mother, and heard an announcement that her congregation was raising money for a battered women’s shelter! I also heard concern that “unequal spousal relationships” were a primary cause of family disintegration. Maybe that’s hopeful. I know many young feminist women who today live in peace with Mormonism. Some have even started a blog: Feminist Mormon Housewives.
Oddly, in some ways my whole trauma has an upside. I don’t know if I would have found my life calling–teaching women’s studies, and writing for the Ms. Blog and creating my own BroadBlogs–if it weren’t for my church’s formidable effort to turn me against feminism. So, in a strange way, I’m tempted to say “thank you.” Too bad the cost is so high.
I originally wrote thisfor the Ms. Magazine Blog on March 30, 2011.
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Women Want Casual Sex? Yes and No
Women want casual sex as much as men, says one study. No they don’t, says another.
Which is it?
Maybe you’ve heard of this project: strangers approach students on college campuses and propose a one night stand or a short-term fling. Women almost always decline, but a lot of men accept.
Standard conclusion: evidence supports evolutionary psychology which claims women are picky, wanting faithful men with good genes, who will provide for their children. Men, on the other hand, will have sex with as many women as possible to better “spread their seed.”
But wait. A new study found that women were as likely to accept casual offers as men. So long as the possible partners were Brad Pitt or Johnny Depp.
Neither Brad nor Johnny propositioned real live research subjects. Rather, men and women were surveyed on a variety of scenarios.
Would you like to have sex if a stranger propositioned you in broad daylight? Survey says women find this set-up is no more appealing on paper than in the real life original study. Real or imagined, men were much more likely than women to accept.
What if fears of violence were removed? Women were asked if they’d like to have sex with their best male friend. Not really. Men were much more interested in sex with a female friend.
How about sexy men who seemed non-violent. Johnny Depp or Brad Pit? By all means, YES!!! Just as interested as men were in having sex with Angelina Jolie or Christy Brinkley.
Researchers queried on a variety of factors that might drive appeal or repulsion, including assumed sexual capability, status, warmth, faithfulness, likely gift-giving, or worries about danger, STDs or mental illness.
For women, nothing much affected their feelings other than worries about violence, or most especially, sexual capability.
For the most part, women said “no” to strangers and good friends because they didn’t think they’d enjoy sex with them very much. And they said yes to Johnny and Brad because they thought they would.
Still, another survey found that large numbers of women regretted one-night stands. While 80% of men had positive feelings, only 54% of women did. Displeased women felt used or worried about their reputations, while the men felt even more confident after these encounters. Lead researcher, Professor Anne Campbell of Durham University (UK) explained, “What the women seemed to object to was not the briefness of the encounter but the fact that the man did not seem to appreciate her.”
Others have found emotional connection to be extremely important to women. Women who respond to my blog constantly say they enjoy sex, but that it needs to be with someone they care about.
Maybe the truth lies somewhere in between. I need a strong emotional connection, myself. But I’d make an exception for Brad or Johnny.
Is my general preference due to evolutionary psychology? I doubt it. American Indians and Tahitians were promiscuous before European contact, so I don’t think monogamy’s in the genes.
In the western world women’s sexuality is repressed by negative messages from parents, friends, religious instructors, words like slut and whore, and worries about reputations. The threat of sexual violence can make sex seem fearful, while the act of sexual violence can make sex seem abhorrent. Since women are the sex objects, we don’t have sexy men to focus on. Instead we too often dwell on ourselves, distracted by how good or bad we look. All of this makes emotional connection an important component for many women.
My conclusion: Women are as biologically capable as men of wanting casual sex. But a lot of women want a lot more.
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500 Calories + Pregnancy Hormones = Perfect Body
Pregnancy hormones plus 500 calories a day equals the newest diet fad. Theoretically, the hormone injections allow the dieter to starve without hunger pangs.
Susan Yager, on faculty at New York University’s Department of Nutrition, called it “one of the loopiest and most dangerous ideas ever.” Even if it does work, it’s not sustainable, she says. Once people get off the injections, most will return to their usual weight.
This is the latest in a long line of nutty fads. We’ve got the grapefruit diet, liquid diet, cabbage soup diet, lemonade diet, acai berry diet, and even a tapeworm diet, to name a few.
Some who follow these regimes, are obese. Others aren’t, but are desperate to get skinny, skinny.
What else can you do but go on crazy diets if you want to resemble today’s insanely slim supermodels? They go on crazy diets, too.
Victoria’s Secret Angels are considered the ideal, but how do they create their angelic bodies? One jumped rope and ate nothing but spinach, chard and kale to lose 20 pounds, post-pregnancy. Another described the routine as “killing ourselves” in unending runs, lunges and squats. One supermodel’s big cheat was eating “a whole head of lettuce.” Many use drugs to deal with the stress of starving. These women have unusual genes in the first place, but still go diet-mad.
Naomi Wolf says the expectation that women’s bodies must be gaunt yet full breasted, though rarely found in nature, was once assumed to be the eternal and transcendent ideal. It seemed important beyond question to somehow live up to that standard.
Wolf wrote The Beauty Myth twenty years ago. Today things have changed and stayed the same. A lot of women and men now get it – that the ideal is a myth and not descended from heaven. But others don’t.
Some women still diet to extreme and feel compelled to go under the knife to correct their natural but, in their minds, “deformed” breasts.
One might hope the insanity of the means would clue us in to the insanity of the end. But too often it doesn’t.
Georgia Platts
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Charlie Sheen: Winning. But Is He Happy?
Charlie Sheen is obsessed with winning, as in, “The only thing I’m addicted to right now is winning…” “Just winning every second…” “Winning, anyone?…” “Duh, winning!”
What’s winning? To Charlie it’s sleeping with all the attractive women he can buy, and treating them anyway he wants. When he abuses women does “beating” carry a double entendre – batter and win?
Two trains of thought prevail on the source of happiness. One side advocates freedom. The other, deep bonds.
Charlie, the libertine, seeks the former. Devoid of moral or social restraint, he feels more deserving of freedom than others. After all, the libertine’s liberty comes through other’s bondage.
Winning. Conquering. Total liberty as burden heaps onto others.
While your classic libertine could indulge in rape, murder and mayhem without much thought for the victims (think Marquis de Sade), Charlie may actually experience some, uh, “concern for others” (quotes indicating irony) seeking to believe his victims enjoy it, too. A little narcissism can help with that: I’m feelin’ good, so you must, too.
When Andrea Canning asked in a 20/20 interview how he thought the women felt, Charlie explained, “I expose people to magic. I expose them to something they’re never otherwise going to get to see in their normal, boring lives.”
Let’s see, death threats, beatings, shooting, a rampage. Magic, indeed.
It helps when others are things – objects, sex objects – to be treated anyway you want. Yet as the “thing” becomes dehumanized, so does the dehumanizer.
Charlie Sheen: part libertine, part narcissist. Either way, it’s all about himself. Me, me, me without any real concern for you.
Yes, two perspectives prevail on the roots of happiness: freedom versus deep bonds. Social research suggests that deep connection is what actually creates bliss.
In fact, some see addiction as arising out of deficiencies in deep spiritual bonds, whether the craving is for drugs/alcohol, sex, or thrills. Sheen may be exhibiting each of these. Making us wonder how joyful he really is.
Some suspect Sheen is mentally ill. If former child star, Todd Bridges, is right there may be a connection between drugs and this illness. In a discussion on The View this week, Bridges said that stopping cocaine use led him into “cocaine psychosis,” which he believes Sheen may be experiencing now.
Of course, Charlie thinks he’s fine. He’s winning. And he repeats it so often that you have to wonder who he’s trying to convince.
What is happiness’ source? Deep connection? Total freedom? Treating others like objects to be used, abused and tossed away? Drug use?
Winning and happy? That depends on your pursuit.
Georgia Platts
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Boob: A Breast? Or a Fool?
The English language has more than 1000 words that sexually describe women or their body parts. Here are a few:
Babe, nymph, nymphomaniac, bimbo, fox, dog, beaver, freak, super freak, knockout, melons, tomatoes, whore, ho, dumb blond, shapely, pussy, boobs, hussy, slut, buxom, trim, troll, femme fatale, skank, goddess, jugs, bush, poontang, tart, loose, tramp, butch, bitch, Lolita, Betty, sex kitten, temptress, beast, promiscuous.
Sometimes neutral words take on a sexual meaning when they are applied to women. Call a man a professional and you’ll likely envision doctor or a lawyer. But say, “She’s a professional” and “prostitute” may be the first thing that comes to mind.
An author was asked to rename a book title before publication. “The Position of Women in Society” seemed too suggestive.
“It’s easy” sounds like a simple task. “He’s easy,” might denote an easy grader. But say, “she’s easy,” and you’ll likely hear “sexually promiscuous.”
One-time courtesy titles, or even high titles, can take on sexual meanings. “Madam” is a polite way of addressing a woman. She may be the female head of household. But she may also be the female head of a house of prostitution. Mistress – another term for the female head of house – is now associated with adultery. “Lady” is a polite title. But “lady of the evening” is not. Even the highest status a woman can gain, “Queen” takes on sexual connotations when applied to a gay man or a “drag queen.”
And notice how these words are demeaning as well as sexual (“gay” is beginning to overcome the stigma, but there’s a way to go). We could add drama queen and cootie queen to that mix.
Even the term boob, slang for a woman’s breast, is defined in the dictionary as, “a stupid or foolish person.” Odd that something so valued is also degraded. Is the appeal of boobs similar to the draw of a dumb blonde?
What difference does it all make?
In their work in anthropology, Edward Sapir and Benjamin Whorf learned that words affect how we see. The Hopi Indians had no words to distinguish among the past, present, and future. And they had a difficult time with those concepts. Skiers are more attuned than most to different kinds of snow: powder, packed powder, corn, ice, slush, for example. Or, we so often use male terms to describe humanity – man, mankind, brotherhood, fellowship – that when people are asked to think of a person, a man generally comes to mind.
Words dig deep into our unconscious psyches, directing how we see ourselves and others. When we constantly hear sexual and pejorative terms describing women, women come to be sexualized and demeaned in our minds.
The language we learn is neither the fault of the men or the women of our society, in so far as baby girls and baby boys both grow up immersed in these words. What’s important is how we use language once we “get it,” and once we get that it matters.
Georgia Platts
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