But the man never tries to bring her to this realization. It means nothing to him—all he wants is for her to be there, with her sex open to him. No more than that. It is like this almost every time. Before she knows it, it is all over. He is rolling over and lighting a cigarette, or proudly slapping her thigh and reveling in the sense of a job well done, while she is staring at the ceiling as the fury wells up inside her. Why is she like this? Why doesn’t she like it? Why is she not like other women? Why isn’t she content with what men have to offer? She would like to get up and run out of the
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