Few ordeals are so exquisite in cold weather as trying to romance a female at minus-20 degrees. More fun is minus-30 degrees. By female I mean dairy cow and the romance is to milk this reluctant creature with cold hands.
The spectacle of the sport directly proportional to the inordinate sensitivity as is a biological constant of female flesh. To acknowledge here the learning curve, when this same adventure is attached to a female who can kick you to the back side of the moon at the hint of insult and/or lack of romance as counts as insult.