After a long dinner with his friends, Caroline and Alexander (who always corrected people when they called him Alex), finally left the restaurant. It was Alexander who suggested they walk home because, in his estimation, Caroline had had too much to drink, and she should “walk it off.” Caroline resented the condescension, and all she wanted was for him to call an Uber. But in her less secure financial state, that wasn’t an option if Alexander didn’t say it was. And it was in instances like these when Caroline had to wonder just what the fuck she was doing. Taking such a risk on not only being so dependent on a man, but a man who could be as irascible as Alexander. That irascibility could invariably lead to withholding as punishment. Like he got off on it or something. And probably did. Just the other day, in fact, Caroline had come across some video where a woman was talking about a recent study that proved men actually enjoy torturing (okay, the word used was “annoying”) their girlfriends. Seeing the irritated look on their faces is like some kind of fucked-up positive reinforcement for them. Caroline realized that must be how Alexander felt when Caroline displayed any form of vexation. 

So tonight, when he tried to goad her by telling her she was too tipsy and needed to walk it off, she didn’t take the bait. In contrast, she replied sweetly in agreement and linked her arm in his, telling him he was right and that, besides, it would be romantic to stroll all the way up steep Collingwood Street. Plus, it would really help her get in her calf and thigh workout for the day. Jarred by her willingness to go along with a suggestion that was intended to be more than slightly sadistic, Alexander briefly submitted to this sudden aura of pleasantness between them. It was too lulling to fight against. Even Caroline had to admit to herself that things were so much more peaceful when she didn’t bother to contradict him. Though she also couldn’t deny that he needed to be “womansplained” to more often than not. Alas, she knew how useless it was to try to explain anything to men that might invoke something like empathy within them for the female experience. A term they balked at if/when they heard it.

Caroline certainly never tried to use such a phrase in front of Alexander to attempt redirecting his attention to the fact that being a man did not entail having to put up a constant fight about even the most basic of things (e.g., being believed when they said something as irrefutable as, “The sky is blue”). And it was a fight that was about to come up as, for whatever reason, Alexander took Caroline linking his arm as a form of “playfulness” that warranted him grabbing her crotch and squeezing it “affectionately” in response. This was something he had been known to do in the past, and she had told him repeatedly that she really hated it. Not only because it was a sensitive area, but because it made her feel gross and belittled. 

Alexander, of course, would never see it from that perspective. Instead, he would try to claim that it was a token of “love,” and she shouldn’t take offense to it. That’s exactly what he insisted now, as she unlinked her arm from his and proceeded to get fucking pissed about how he ruined a perfectly nice moment between them. For no other reason than because it suited his whim. But that was the male way. Some inclination to destroy and disrupt everything. She was so angered and made to feel so disgusting by his gesture that she seethed, “Fucking Trump over here. Grabbin’ ‘em by the pussy.”

Alexander, who prided himself on being a coastal liberal elite, stopped in his tracks at that accusation. It was as though Caroline had stabbed him with a knife. That’s how out of touch he was with his behavior. He couldn’t make the connection between himself and someone like Trump. Could never dream of seeing himself that way, with the same sense of entitlement to a woman’s most sacred body part. Perhaps because there’s this idea that men have that because somebody is your girlfriend, it gives you license to treat her perhaps even worse than you would a woman who wasn’t. After all, there remains an indoctrinated belief that a woman becomes “property” once she’s tied to a man. Maybe that was how Alexander saw her. Especially since he was “obliged” to pay for so much of what they did together.

Whatever his “view” was of her, the bottom line was that he did not respect her. Not really. Otherwise, he would have at least tried to understand why she was offended by his action. In lieu of that, he suddenly turned her offense into his own, becoming sullen and closed off because she had dared to speak out and become enraged about having her crotch arbitrarily grabbed. It didn’t matter to her that it was supposed to be some “sign of affection.” To her, it was only yet another sign that her value as a woman was reduced to what EL James would call her “sex.” What was she, really, to Alexander apart from a glorified pocket pussy?

As they continued walking up the incredibly steep hill of Collingwood (neck and neck with some of San Francisco’s other horrendous hills), the distance between them grew not just physically, but emotionally. The chasm had already been forming for some time, and now it was cracking wide open. Unless Caroline chose to stop it. To dam up the deluge of furor that was coming and would not be stopped if she didn’t fulfill her feminine obligation to “placate.” To “soothe.” Maybe that’s all being a girlfriend really was: being a mother. Something Caroline had never wanted to be; this possibly just another way in which she wasn’t a “real” woman. Which was to say, a person who could constantly accommodate, make herself small and create life. Because that’s what women were supposed to do. All they were built for. Apart from being an orifice to penetrate.

Yet even after all that, men were still wont to call them whores and witches. Like Jude in Lapvona, who declares to himself that “all women were villains, users” and “only concerned with their own comfort.” The fucking nerve of such an assessment. As though men truly were blind to the endless ways in which women contorted themselves like pretzels to cater to every male need and demand. Lest they endure some horrific form of brutality as punishment for not “obeying” (and, mind you, brutality doesn’t always need to be physical). Including the “penalty” of not being deemed a “cool” girl. A girl you could “mess around” and “have fun” with. A “down-ass bitch.”

This is why Caroline could feel herself surrendering. Could sense that she would capitulate to his mood and end up being the one to apologize even though he had affronted her. Because if she tried to tell him that the ultimate male maneuver was to invalidate a woman’s feelings by telling her she couldn’t handle a “joke” or some “light teasing,” he would only shut down all the more. And as she felt her hand reach out, as though guided by an unseen puppeteer, to touch his shoulder as a means to initiate defusing the situation, he whipped around and hissed, “Did you enjoy your dinner tonight?”

Of course, Caroline immediately knew what he was getting at. That it was a pointed question, not a genuine one. And what he meant to say, what the subtext was, inferred that she ought to be very careful about “lashing out” at him in such a way. Or the purse strings might be significantly tightened going forward. Worse than they were for Ethel Mertz with Fred. And that’s how she knew she was licked that night (and not, incidentally, her pussy). And probably every night thereafter. So long as she wanted this version of her life to continue, which she did. Because she already knew it was just as brutal outside her so-called gilded cage as it was in.

Nodding her head meekly to admit that she did enjoy the dinner, Caroline put her arm in his again and continued walking at his pace. It was then that she finally understood. That it was this logic about preferring the devil you knew to the ones you didn’t (lurking outside the gilded cage) that perhaps prompted so many women to stay when a concept like “self-respect” so clearly dictated that they should go.