had he but said what the other said i would not have reacted to vehemently
but the woman in me wants what the other said, so simply, i want to be the
one who smiles and cooks dinner (but we all know that i would not be very
good at) yet, in the deepest recesses of my being there is an ember that longs
for this very moment: when the man walks in says: you look very pretty goes
and walks the dog, returns, sits and eats the little i know how to prepare no
man has ever asked me to do this: it is in my eyes this stubbornness: this fem-
i-n-ism gone wrong: and as i walk in dressed in my blue suit, place my briefcase
down, and walk towards the man that is way too big to be in any kitchen, smiling
i know he knows there is something very wrong with the order of things and i sit
