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She had her own barometer for knowing when a man was getting too close: as soon as he felt comfortable enough to help himself to something in her refrigerator, he was history….Filching leftover was simply too domestic for her to stomach. A man might as well say, “I’m hungry and I’m taking your food, woman.” First he’d be foraging for food in the fridge, next he’d be expecting her to cook for him, replace buttons on his shirt, and give up her job to have babies that looked like him.
