showed the lifecycle of a mother, whole years lost to bringing people into the world who would go on to ignore you.
"Females invest far more time and energy in the process. Pregnancy, birth, nursing, raising." Even as she wrote it down, she knew Max was reading her notes. He’d cribbed off her before, but she’d show him. Next to females and time she wrote male investment= fifteen minutes.
Max, all slouched in his chair, leaned his cheek practically against her shoulder. "Darlin’, he’s not doin’ it right."
She felt an electric jolt that she hoped to god he’d missed. He’d said not doin’ it right with the total and utter confidence of a man who could rectify that, not immediately, but over the course of, what, hours?
He sighed, like he pitied human males. "Even at eighteen it should take the better part of an afternoon."
Better part of an afternoon. She would just ignore him and any possible memories of anybody naked ever in the history of afternoons.
"A female’s reproductive success depends on the quality of her choice of mate."
She kept writing, glad that her marrying a tool was justified at last and in front of Max. Well, other people thought Steve was a tool. Not that she didn’t after he’d gone, but still, a woman needed to choose a responsible mate, didn’t she?
"A woman needs a tool," he whispered so close to her ear, she could feel his breath, "to make up for that fifteen minutes."
Her mouth opened but nothing came out.
"For the male there is a psychological obsession with paternity, so they can be assured that it is their genetic contribution."
Max took her pen and wrote, children?
She pulled the pen out of his hand. He did not just ask her about children after a discussion of paternity. To think that he had even for one moment considered that after…
He took the pen back, smiled his forgive me charming smile and circled her handwriting obsession with paternity. He drew a line through it.
Well, still, he could have picked a better moment in the lecture to ask her about children. She sighed, wrote daughter, 18 and hoped their scrawled conversation would end there because nothing good could come of it, ever. She didn’t even need to ask him if he had children. Somehow she knew, without knowing anything else, that he didn’t. There was something not parent-like about him. She wished that made her sad, but a part of her, the selfish part, was glad. It didn’t even make sense.
"The sexual double standard discourages female sexuality, and as we’ve discussed earlier, women have a far greater sexual capacity than men."
Max leaned his head against the back of the chair and nodded in solidarity with the professor. "You’re preachin’ to the choir, mister."
She tried to shush him but a little laugh colored it.
"The double standard, and from the previous chapter we’ve seen this played out in language, images, and social structures… this standard helps increase the odds that the male will be reassured of paternity. It also puts the female in a better negotiating position."
Max tapped his finger on her notebook. "Write that one down. I’ve never even heard of the negotiating position."
She flicked the side of his hand like it was a bug that had landed on her paper.
"In negotiation, do you remember this? The party that is least attached to the outcome has the most power. And since women have been culturally perceived as wanting sex less than men, and, in fact, pay more for sex in terms of the time and energy devoted to subsequent offspring, they appear to be even less attached to the outcome."
Max shook his head. "Again, he’s not doing it right."
"Sexual power is delivered into the hands of women."
Max yawned. "All this tool talk is making me feel redundant."
Gwen tilted her head to look at him. "Redundant? Is it making you feel gay as well?"
He put his hands on his chest as if he’d taken a hit. "You’ve used your sexual power for evil not good."
"I haven’t used my sexual…" she stopped herself. Nothing after sexual could possibly be something she’d care to say to him.
"Now that is a shame, but I’m gonna help you out. I’ll pick you up tomorrow night at seven." Max got up from his seat. He moved quickly when he wasn’t sprawling.
He made it to the aisle, but she put her hand on his arm. "I’m not having sex with you tomorrow night!" She glanced ahead to make sure she hadn’t said