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“People like you have no…imagination!” Eleanor accused, pushing off against Chidi’s desk until her chair tipped back.
“People like me?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Moral philosophers. Simone is obviously crazy into you, since she’s waited like, for forking ever. Fucking. Why did I say ‘forking’?” Eleanor interrupted herself, frowning. “Anyways, point is you have to have better date ideas than going to the library.”
“It’s not just 'the library.’ It’s the humanities library. For her, a neuroscientist, this will be like a field trip! You know, fun!”
Dude just called field trips 'fun.’ Eleanor’s brain couldn’t even process that. “Okay, listen, a date is supposed to be real fun, not weird nerd fun. C'mon, spitball some stuff.” At Chidi’s panicked look, Eleanor conceded that improvisation might not be his strength. “Fine, I’ll start. Take her to a movie. Classic.”
“I considered that, but the problem is…”
“Oh God, here we go.” Eleanor let her head flop against her shoulders, staring at the ceiling.
“Cinema, like almost all forms of media, is historically rooted in the male gaze. And I would never want to make Simone uncomfortable with a sexist movie. But movie reviews don’t have nearly enough critical analysis. So then I decided that I should go see all of the movies myself.”
“You watched all of the movies?”
He shook his head. “No, I realized that as a cis man, my perspective is limited. So I may not notice some misogynistic microaggressions and tropes. But as a woman, Simone may be more sensitive to them. Therefore I may not—wait, no, I don’t mean 'women are sensitive’. Oh God.”
“Chidi…”
“That’s not what I meant. Women aren’t inherently more sensitive…”
“Chidi…”
“Not that there’s anything wrong with sensitivity! Traditionally 'feminine’-coded traits are often given negative connotations, which is itself misogynistic, since—”
“Chidi!”
“Yes?” he squawked, blinking furiously.
“Pick the movie with the most women on the poster,” she instructed. Slowly, she reached across the desk and set her hand atop his warm, slightly sweaty one. It probably should’ve been gross. She definitely shouldn’t have liked it.
“Oh.” He blinked again. He actually smiled; weakly, then brightening. “Oh, well, that could work. As a metric, it’s actually not a bad—”
“Sounds great, man,” she told him, forcing herself to give a grin. Taking a mental baseball bat to that thing which writhed in her chest at the thought of Chidi on a date. Since he and Simone were both adorable and brainiacs and therefore perfect together, that thing must’ve been gas. “When you guys get married, I expect a thank you,” she retorted, bluster not coming as easily as normal. Damned gas. “And I don’t mean at the reception. In the vows.” She rose to leave. “Peace out, teach.”
“Okay. Should I tell Simone you say hi?”
“Yep!”
Eleanor was fine with this. Arizona trashbag tough. Not like Chidi, who was so good and definitely several thousand steps above trashbag.
Yep. Totally fine. Just like mom taught her.