Every time I say sure when I mean no, every time I smile brightly when I'm exploding with rage, every time I imagine my man's achievement is my own, I know the cheerleader never really died. I feel her shaking her ass inside me and I hear her breathless, girlish voice mutter T-E-A-M, Yea, Team.
The question arises as to whether it is possible not to live in the world of men and still to live in the world.