”“Where did you draw the line, big man?” She demanded to know.“I’m not going to tell you,” I said flatly.“Well how will I know that I’...e crossed it?” Deb said as she put her hands on her hips.“You won’t, so you’d better consider everything you do from now forward. But believe me, when you cross it, the hell that will rain down on you and all of the men you have been fucking will be incalculable.”With that I left the party and, instead of going to the Hampton, I went home. I figured that she. He knew about things – lots of things. He knew about music, about film, about sport – not that she was interested in that, but still – and he knew how to talk to her. Again, that was the main thing.It was 1983 and sport was still pretty much a man’s interest. She would watch Wimbledon, but only because she liked looking at Pat Cash, alhough you couldn’t admit that in mixed company. Not when you were berating the men for their thoughtless sexism.There is no such thing as what you should and. More

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