So, can I ask you to do me a favour? Suburban women, will you please like me? I saved your damn neighbourhood. That was what President Donald Trump asked in a speech in Pennsylvania this week.
"That would be a hard no."
"Hell to the no."
A vomit emoji.
Those are a few of the responses I got when I asked some of the white suburban women I know whether they will give in to Trump's recent pleas to like him.
Women of the 'burbs - like those enclaves they inhabit - are not who Trump thinks they are.
He needs them in his bid for reelection. But by clinging to the notion that suburban women are white housewives who need to be saved from scary threats like (gasp!) low-income neighbours and protesters for social justice, he's striking the wrong chord.
Across America, the suburbs are becoming more racially and ethnically diverse and dynamic. They're not the little boxes and fenced yards of Levittown, but a mix of homeowners and renters, apartments and condos, cottages and McMansions.
The suburbs are where city folks go for Korean groceries, Indian buffet and salsa night. Since 2000, more than half the immigrants coming to America settled in the suburbs.
White people became the minority in the DC suburb of Montgomery County in 2011, according to Census Bureau figures showing the breakdown of groups in the area.
Houston and its suburbs are so diverse, the man running for the 22nd Congressional District there - former foreign service officer Sri Preston Kulkarni - has campaign literature in 21 languages.
The suburbs are where more than half of Americans say they live - and they're not all existing in the aprons-and-cocktails childhood of the 1950s Trump keeps pining for.
After my social media query to the suburban women I know, I went in search of some in the wild.
I headed to the prime habitat of the suburban woman: Michael's. Surely I could find them in this emporium of scrapbooking and silk flowers in Rockville, Montgomery County. After spending way too much money on aspirational craft items - hey, urban women craft, too - I began chatting with the women I found there.
"I am making calls, calls every night, doing anything I can to get him out," Till Cartwright (68), a child of the Atlanta suburbs, said of Trump.
"I don't think he's doing anything to help us," she continued. "Montgomery County, we're one of the most diverse counties in America, and everything he's doing is hurting the people here - from denying science, the immigration nonsense, the image of the presidency."
I redirected to another of the most suburban areas I could think of: Northern Virginia. There I talked to a woman who seemed to embody the suburban aesthetic that Trump is after. She's a wife and mother, a real estate agent, and an active and chatty member of several women's social groups. Would she vote for Trump?
"Even if a tree ran against Trump, I would vote for the tree," said Naghmana Malik. Many of her clients in Chantilly and her friends in Fairfax - the suburbs where she works and lives - are like her, of Pakistani descent. White people make up just 38pc of the population in Chantilly.
Trump has got it wrong if he thinks he knows suburban women.
"I belong to a Jewish and Muslim group, and among us, none of them are Trump supporters," Ms Malik said.
It was during the first presidential debate that Trump tried to tap into suburban fears and said "our suburbs would be gone" under a Joe Biden presidency.
Nice try. Except it's not the looming spectre of random, scary crime that's scorching the suburbs.
"Donald Trump is right to think that suburban women will be voting for safety, but he's wrong to think that means they'll be voting for him," said Shannon Watts, a suburban woman and mother of five who has become a force in American politics with her group, Moms Demand Action.
It seems Trump has a fight on his hands.