six

I’d started a new job at a different café after the previous one had fired me, which saw me treating Delilah to dinner as we had had a bet going on how long I would be able to hold down that job.

“But I can’t pay for dinner because I don’t have any money because I don’t have a job now”, I’d tried to explain, but Delilah had only grinned and said: “You better find a new job, then!”

So I did. The new job was much better than the previous one. My manager was a guy only two years older than me, who had consistently been turning a blind eye to all the complimentary coffees to which I was treating myself in defiance of company policy. 

“That’s basically the same as him buying me the coffees”, I insisted. “He’s basically taking me on coffee dates, like, three times a week. He is definitely in love with me.”

She looked at me for a moment in silence, before saying: “We’ve lived together for two years now and sometimes I wonder if we would even pass the Bechdel test.” And then, as I stared at her blankly, she continued: “You know, whether or not there’s at least one conversation between two female characters in a movie that is not about men.”

“Why does that matter?”

“It’s a feminist thing. Because everything is so centred around men that it’s actually rare for a movie to have two women with speaking roles that serve any other purpose than to fight over a man. I think only twenty percent of all movies pass it.”

“That’s insane”, I said.

“Exactly! But then – you know. When was the last time we talked about something other than men?”

“I asked you to buy cereal just an hour ago”, I remarked.

“Yeah, and you said to get the one with the ‘hot tiger’ on it.”

“Oh.”

“We’re horrible feminists”, she said. 

“Let’s never talk about men again”, I said. She nodded solemnly.

We fell silent. She glanced at her watch awkwardly. I took a sip of coffee and looked away, trying to come up with something else to say, and when I caught her gaze again, we burst into laughter. “We are horrible feminists!”, she chortled.

“Let’s never talk about men again once a week”, I suggested. “On Mondays.”

“Okay. Oh, but today’s a Monday, and I really have to tell you about this guy.”

“Tuesdays then”, I contended.

We shook on it.