While Katie's showering, I watch the Best Submissions EVER! on the TV in our bedroom, dozens of cage fighters at the end of their battles inflicting grievous bodily harm on the joints, windpipes, and spines of their opponents, each kimura or choke hold or triangle different, each outcome identical, until the grinding spectacle of it all bums me out and I switch it off.
I sit on the floor in our bathroom beneath the steam while Katie towels off her heat-pink skin. "It's like a nature show," I explain, "but the only thing they film is the cheetah eating the gazelle, over and over, until they all look the same. The one guy who wins beating the one guy who loses, all day, everyday, forever."