A few years back I made up a short story that I posted on neice. The theme of the story was that I just could not stand to watch yet another man's rear-end lead. So I imagined a scenario in which I had the pleasure of watching a pair of Wild-Rose pants make their way up a two-pitch climb at Newfound Lake. But the hero of the story, not wanting to be sexiest and to be welcoming of woman climbers, debates with himself that this partner should not be any different from than the rest.
But alas, I have misplaced that story, and, other than sharing top-ropes, I have never in five years had the chance to swap leads with a woman climber.