Iron Man 4: In My Pants.

I think if I can sincerely text a guy and say, “I’ve been switched on specifically for you ALLLLL day. It’s starting to hurt a little. Come do unspeakable things to my willing, naked body,” that the recipient should be contractually — nay, morally! — obligated to come service me. (Funny, “come service” is exactly what I had in mind.)

To that end, someone please send me Robert Downey Jr.’s phone number.