This hit me with pruned roses in a vase, overly sugared lemonade, then amaretto non-dairy creamer–gorgeous wild things tamed and tempered to be generic.
I felt the need to mind my dirty mouth, to check my shirt buttons for too much cleavage.

Then the guy said, “You smell like my mother.
So that’s that.

I’m not often one for acapella, but this is kind of amazing.