chapter 2, part 2

"Not for everyone," she scoffed. "No, of course not for everyone," he agreed. "But no one can be exactly the same, and a consequence of that is that some will do much better than others. It's unavoidable."

She took a step back, scrutinizing him. "So what's your ideal relationship, then? Someone who obediently waits around, feeding you when you order her to?"

"As much as I'd love to have a full-time feeder, that's not a relationship, that's a job," he said sardonically. "Most work is going to resemble that much more than a relationship ever should. A romantic relationship should be a partnership of mutual benefit, of making each other's lives easier. It's as much or more about the woman as the man, since there's more that he can do to ease her burden of -- one would hope -- having children one day, as part of their legacy."

"So just baby-making, then?" she smirked. "Is that your idea of fulfillment, doing nothing but popping out kids to be a burden on society?" She flicked her wrist dismissively.

"Yes, baby-making, because good genes deserve to be passed on. If you love someone, you want to see them continue living on through their children one day," he answered patiently. "You act as if this isn't important or vital work to continue the future of humanity. And I don't blame you, sweetheart, because I know that a lot of pressure is put on young people to not have children today. It's treated as a sin, a screwup. Because it interferes with the short-term profits of corporations like this one, as it could lead to mothers or fathers choosing to stay out of the workforce, committed couples that have more financial independence than perpetual singletons do, and so on." She looked surprised to hear him saying this, and he spread his hands in a shrug. "I look at the long-term, not the short, which is why I've done as well as I have. Well, except for when it comes to this." He lowered his hands to either side of his belly, and jiggled it briefly. "My vice is eating food without putting too much thought into the long-term consequences of that. But it helps me to relax and focus on more important work, like saving people's livelihoods."

She was running over what he said in her mind, and feeling overcome with a mixture of emotions. "I'll leave you to it," she said softly, and turned and left quickly. This was a lot to process. She went to her desk and tried to finish off the day's work. Hearing no more from Ashe that afternoon, she promptly left at 5:30, not wanting to check in on him again until her thoughts had settled down. She decided to bring some takeout to her boyfriend's and spend the evening with him, to give herself some reassurance. She picked up some of their favorite salads on the walk to Isaac's place.

Eleanor let herself in with a key when she arrived, predicting that he'd be busy watching a streamer and not want to be interrupted. She set the bag of food on the kitchen counter, then went to join him. She pulled up a chair next to his desk chair, which reminded her of the ones that her school used to have. "How are you?" she asked. He made a face and a grunting sound, not looking away from the screen. She was used to him never reciprocating in conversation. "There's some soups and salads in the kitchen. Um, I spent about $30." He nodded, then motioned to an open bag of Veg Stix between his skinny legs. "Thanks, but I'm already eating," he mumbled. She'd always offered to go fifty-fifty on their dates, and he expected it, but he was bad about offering himself, and when pressed on it, used the excuse that she had a better job than him because she was female. This had never actually been the case until recently, now that she was an Executive Assistant and he was still a "retail associate" at a chain store. He insisted that this was his choice, because he couldn't -- nor should he be expected to -- handle the stress of anything more demanding, just because he was a male.

She turned to see what Isaac was watching. It appeared to be an emaciated but fully-grown adult man with multi-colored hair, who was screaming like a child while he was harassing actual children in a video game that they played together. A few moments later, a very similar looking woman entered the frame, and the man stopped playing the game in order to struggle to pick her up, while it was her turn to scream. Eleanor usually refrained from any kind of criticism of Isaac's life or tastes. They, like many of their friend group, simply never criticized each other. Don't judge and don't tolerate judgement, had been the way that they'd been raised throughout all of their schooling. Inspired by today's events, she decided to test the waters by actually expressing some of her real thoughts.

"He looks like he could use a cheeseburger," she said under her breath. Isaac finally turned to her, making another face. "What? Um, body-shaming? Really? Also, cheeseburgers are maybe the worst thing you can eat, especially for the planet?" he gaped at her for a moment, then went back to watching. She shrugged. "Well, he should be able to pick up his girlfriend," she replied after a moment. "If he can't, that doesn't seem healthy."

Isaac dramatically dropped his bag of fried cornmeal on the floor. "Wow, okay. First of all, he's in an open relationship, so don't assume that's his girlfriend. And what kind of sexist assumption is it to say that he should be able to pick her up? It's just as sexist to have expectations for men as for women," he said, getting riled up.

"Yes, it is sexist," Eleanor muttered, mostly to herself. "And maybe that's fine." She was ready to have expectations -- another word for standards -- and to go for broke for what she wanted.

Not paying any attention, Isaac continued. "I mean, look at how women like you are always getting better jobs than me. You did better in college than I did. It's not fair to place any kind of expectations on me in that situation. I mean, it's only fair that women have to support men now that things are different. You shouldn't get special treatment or get to live off of someone. Equal lefts for equal rights!" he suddenly yelled, slugging her in the shoulder. "Ow!" she winced. It didn't so much physically hurt her, as it hurt that he wanted to do this to her, to make some kind of point about women in general, not seeing her as an individual who was trying her best -- and this wasn't the first time. Rubbing her shoulder and feeling the sting of tears in her eyes, she rose to get her salad from the kitchen. She opted to eat standing at the counter, since there were no other seats.

"Speaking of," Isaac went on, oblivious. "I've been thinking that, now that you have this job, we should move in together."

Eleanor froze, fork in mid-air. "Really? You want me to move in here?" She started imagining having to clean up this sty, and it didn't even come with a fat pig, she mused to herself. In fact, she found it increasingly difficult to be intimate with Isaac because of his choice to look skeletal rather than give in to any standards of masculinity. Not that he really had much of an interest in intimacy, anyway, when there were other distractions.

Isaac laughed. "No, no. It's too small. I was thinking, that since you just live with roomies now anyway, that you can easily find someone to take over your lease, and then you can get a bigger place, and then I can move in with you. I mean, you can afford it now. Then I wouldn't have to bug my parents so much about bills. I've already started looking at places and have some picked out for you. We can also get a maid service, finally." His eyes were fixed on the screen, watching now as the girl was sitting on the guy's lap while she took her turn at griefing kids.

"Ah, alright," she trailed off, looking down at her salad. Finally, it had all been enough. She slammed the lid back on her bowl, shoved it in the bag with the other food, dropped her key on the counter, and then walked out with the sack, not bothering to close the door behind her. She figured it would be a few minutes before Isaac even noticed.