‘Hold on. This all seems to have very little to do with what I wrote. Most of all, the women who read The Know are smart. They are not looking to us for answers. They don’t want to be told what to think. They want to see their reality reflected back at them. I wrote an honest, vulnerable piece and I believe it has, um, struck a chord,’ I look around wildly, daring someone to challenge me, ‘not because our readers want to have a three, ah, the sexual experience that I had’ (I’m not sure you can say threesome on telly before breakfast, no one else has, and I’m not brave enough to check,) ‘but because the reality of being a woman today is confusing. We don’t know what we want. We don’t know what we’re allowed to want. And that’s because of the legacy left by older feminists like Dora,’ I catch her eye, and I see a speck of respect.

‘We’ve been sold a lot of confusing problems. Our feminist heroes are the women who fought for our sexual freedom and told us it was what we should want but now they are also the women who are slut-shaming us for sexual exploration. Now, the rug is being pulled out from under us. You told us you broke the rules for us, but in the next breath, you’re shaming us for making our own rules. You want to force your experiences upon us without being willing to listen to what we’re all going through, right now.’

Dora inhales, poised to interrupt, but I’m determined to keep talking. The rage is cooling in my veins, and I feel good. I feel sure. Finally, I think this is what it feels like to be The Girl. Slowly, clearly, I go on. ‘The point of my piece wasn’t to brag about a wild night—but to explore the fact that in this millennium, I am living with shame that I shouldn’t have to feel. That parts of my encounter did not feel completely consensual. If I’d been raised in a truly supportive feminist culture, I’d probably have had the threesome…’ Ha, I said it! ‘But I wouldn’t be here talking about it because it wouldn’t be news. The response simply illustrates that we have a long way to go.’ I turn to Dora. ‘Now, do you want to help your daughters, or do you want to keep being part of the problem?’

I wish I hadn’t given her an opening. My adrenaline comes roaring back. I’m doing a sort of seated Riverdance. I’m attempting to stay perfectly still from the waist up, but my legs are vibrating against the metal of the high chair.