Well, when talking to a girl your life isn't on the line, just your dignity and ego, so it's not really the same thing.

I can't tell you, though, how many times I've been perched atop a dragon's head, crouching, spear in one hand, holding on for dear life with the other, as I await the perfect opportunity to plunge my weapon into the dragon's glowing eye, praying that the instrument does not fail me and that my aim is true to pierce its brain, my armor stifling me, bruises all over my body from a brutal swipe of its claws that had knocked me against a rock, but I persevered despite shattered bones, gritting my teeth against the pain as I climbed its scaly hide and neck to get to its head, and all the while in the back of my mind I was worrying most about how to ask that hot fatty out for dinner.

It's sort of like in Legend of Zelda where you have to cut down grass and break pots. My last feedee girlfriend was hiding in a vase at my uncle's, but she disappeared on me after I lost all my hearts in a particularly rough game of backyard football.