"I'm sorry," you say to her as she's walking away, "but perhaps you didn't noticed my huge and throbbing machismo?"
"Uh," she stammers, "I'm sorry, come again?"
"Well, I just thought that, since you hadn't given me any compliments, you hadn't noticed how great I am."
She says some words, but they're obviously not important. Rather than listen to any of them, you flex for her. You're flexing as hard as you can, feeling manlier than ever, when you tragically die of a testosterone overdose.