I don't look like a woman, do I?

Things with Sally Shutesanladders were really heating up. We were back on her couch last night and going at it pretty good. She was starting to talk dirty, which was cool until she said something that totally took me off-guard. I'm not sure of the exact wording, but it went something kind of like this:
"I want to kiss your vagina."
I pulled back. "What did you just say?"
She looked unsure of herself and a little panicky. "I want to kiss your vagina?" she said, almost posing it as a question.
"Do you think I'm a woman?" I asked her.
"You're not?"
"No, I'm not a fucking woman. What gave you the impression I was?"
"Well," she said, giving this some thought, "I guess it was your general lack of musculature, your high voice, big boobs, complete lack of masculine qualities; you're kind of short; you don't seem to have any body hair; you appear to be wearing make-up ..."
"Okay, okay," I interrupted her, "that's enough ..."
"... You have a perm," she continued; "you smell like you're on the rag; you carry a purse ..."
"That's not a purse!" I shot back. "It's a big wallet!"
"... You wear tight jeans and clogs," she went on without breaking stride; "you appear to have a Bobby pin holding your bangs back; you drive a Mini Cooper ..."
Holy crap, I thought to myself as I put my pants back on, this might go on all night.