Among the many things I don’t understand, most are feminine. This work is a written extension of the babble we’re fed and that we feed of. It is not an attempt to connect any dots. Its subjects are women I know. It’s not a case of pure coincidence but pure intention. No research has gone into this piece of writing unless you consider banter over drinks, on long-distance phone calls, or by water coolers so. I don’t wish to expose the individuals who confided in me or embarrass myself so I’d like to state that it is a work of fiction, heavily inspired by real lives. Even when I talk about myself, remember, I could just be making up some bits. I am a storyteller, after all. Reading it won’t make you wiser as writing it has had no such effect on me. No bra-burning issues will be discussed in the following pages as this is not the place for it and we need to respect that. If you get offended easily or dislike unwanted advice, now is the time you put down the book. The rest of you, join me. I hope to make you suffer with me. Feel free to observe, absorb, judge and compare. Or not. P.S: I’m not a funny person so if you find parts of the script laugh-worthy, it is your sense of humour at work, not mine. I expect to make no difference in your lives. If you do happen to learn or unlearn something, don’t hold me responsible for it.
