ROFL!!!!
I dated a composite gal in Shreveport over four years. She was a bit tall, 200 pounds, wore leopard skin tights mostly, sipped Pabst Blue Ribbon from the can, had attended Louisiana Tech and some Baptist University in Arkansas, had a uncontrollable wink in her left eye, had a tick on her ear once, bought wart remover by the case, claimed she’d been taken by aliens once, helped her cousin dig a septic tank, and could figure the timing on Ford pick-up strictly by the sound of the engine.
The thing is...most guys would all prefer to remember their composite women in their life...more than the actual women. It’s a sad, sorrowful tale of how things end up.