Her – my daughter’s – first instinct is to blame a woman, me.
I’m the woman.
As long as women are abstract, they’re fine.
We like them fine.
If women become real, they become problematic to deal with.
This is something we haven’t “thought out.”
And her instinct will be to go to Facebook and get her insane third cousin’s uncle’s opinions.
And to consider mine, her mother’s , as tangential to anyone else’s. To almost consider my opinion as a hostile opinion, a consideration which can only make sense if I keep you confused.