’ ‘Y-you like… like… oh god, I can’t say it.’ ‘A highly successful young business woman whose office is a street pole that she leans aga...nst until some guy winds down the car window and grins or scowls and asks how much?’ ‘Oh god,’ her mom sighed, collapsing on to the sofa. ‘Bye mom.’ Susan wheezed, ‘Good luck darling.’ The dining room was almost full and rather noisy but the noise petered out as the maitre ‘d marched unsmiling in front of the blonde with a short hair cut, a black frilly dress. As theDVD played out on my computer screen, played out the scenes I had dreaded, I knew my faith and trust had been misplaced.Susan and I had been high school sweethearts; the convivial, popular cheerleader and her intense, intellectual, fiercely-competitive Cross-Country star. She had broken up with Jeff Spencer shortly before we became an 'item'. No one exactly accused the supernaturally-attractive emerald-eyed Redhead of 'trading down'. In aculture that demanded performance, the football. More

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