I could speak Italian passably well. I could argue the basic histories, literatures, and politics of major European nations. I could cook a passably decadent four-course meal using a hot plate and a toaster oven. I could deep-throat a seven-inch phallus. I could research and write a charming, sprightly, thousand-word article in record time. And I could investigate, seduce, and drop a man with elegance and ease. I could, in short, support, nourish, pleasure, and protect myself. I felt like a proud parent of a devious mind.
