So, Bob, you asked for some of our opening lines?
Sure, Bob, don’t mind if I do.
Here, are a few of mine, Bob.
Thank you for asking; this should be fun.
"Here I was with my first naked woman ever, not a stitch on her, she kept squirming closer, and I kept jabbing paint into her eyes."
"Megan was a woman long on years and short on merit who tried hard to make her days count for something.
But her nights were generally disposable."
"It’s hard to think “was” about your mom."
"The biting metal stink of smoke and powder."
"Soon, even the birds will be dead. Martin didn’t say it out loud. God will finally turn back to us then. Once we’ve gone too far and it’s too late for even Him to pull us out. He’ll tear open the skies in anguish when He sees what we’ve done to His planet. He’ll look out across vast emptied stretches of what had once been a Glorious Creation and wonder if it had all been worth it."
On re-reading these first lines, they are not as sexist as a few of them may at first appear.
That "paint in the eyes" thing is from my memoirs. I was so shy it was crippling and didn't date until I was in my twenties. My first contact with a naked woman was in college when I was trying to paint a life model in art classes, but thought it would be disrespectful to look below her neck. She kept coming up right beside me and I'd just turn red, get all flustered, and spend a lot of time working on the eyes without looking up.
The woman with the disposable nights is just "throwing them away" trying to "pretend she could ever be a writer."