"Hmm… valid point. Speaking of which, have you been sampling the local cuisine lately?"

I rolled my eyes. "Ugh, no. Ain't nobody got time for that."

"So, you're going to be our little seventh wheel forever?"

"No," I sighed. "I'm just focusing on fixing myself right now. Things are really changing in my life."

"Because you're now clinically insane? Oh, come on. You didn't need a psychologist to tell you you're genetically defective. No man is going to marry you now."

I could feel my throat constricting as a wave of shame washed over my body. "Too soon, Zac. Way too soon."

"It was a joke."

"Was it though? Or was there a kernel of truth in there?"

He looked confused. "I'm just trying to make you laugh. We laugh about everything."

"Not about that. Not right now. Having a psychologist tell you you're fucked in the head while your whole life falls apart and your beloved business crashes and burns is not funny. Try again in a year when I'm not still cleaning up this mess."

An awkward silence ensued.

"And seriously," I continued, "you need to work on your people skills. I love you, but just try to take two seconds to imagine how utterly traumatic that must have been for me before you turn it into a casual joke. You're just like my father. You have the emotional sensitivity of a boot."

"I'm guessing that's not a lot?"

"Correct."

"Well, I didn't mean to upset you."

"I know. I just need time. Anyway," I smiled, "maybe you also hit a nerve because I have this subconscious fear that you're right."

"About what?"

"No man is going to marry the crazy chick-"

"It was a joke-"

"-and I'm not twenty-two anymore. I've spent the past decade proving myself to be pretty fucking incompetent at acquiring resources, despite spending barely any money on myself. I can add a little sunshine to someone's life, but sunshine doesn't pay the bills. I just feel like I've been lied to."

"By who?"

"By feminism. I'm turning twenty-nine next year. That's one year away from my thirties. One year, Zac!"

"Yeah, you're basically senile. Wait... is that a gray hair?!" He leaned in to examine my head.

"Hey!" I batted away his hand. "And, yes. When you do the math on meeting the right man, dating, getting engaged, getting married, getting pregnant, and then having multiple children — I'm rapidly approaching senility. It's just an inconvenient, biological fact."

"Okay, calm down. You're still only twenty-eight-"

"-And I felt like I spent my twenties trying to save the world because the men in power are incompetent, and now I'm the one who's ended up with no money, no career, no relationship, and no success as I approach my thirties. I just feel like the whole system is rigged."

"What do you mean, rigged?"

"Like, I've just realized that I don't care about all the stuff I'm supposed to care about. Do you know what it's like to be a high performing female as a teen? People expect you to achieve things and reach your potential. Like, just because I graduated high school with a mark that allowed me to do anything I wanted, I was expected to 'use' that mark to become a doctor, or a lawyer, or something equally as prestigious. It's almost as if I'm expected to do what other people can't do, just because I can.

But I actually don't care about my career. I've spent a decade trying to keep my attention on it, but I just don't value it. Instead, I have very simple needs. I only want three things in my life: to be the world's best partner in the world's best marriage, and be the world's best mother to the happiest children in the world, and to fix all of the world's problems. Is that really too much to ask?"

"I mean, when you add in that last point, it kinda is..."

"I don't think so, though. It seems like a daunting task on an emotional level, but if you run it through a logical framework, it's possible. It's just a risky endeavour."

"What do you mean?"

"Like, if I want to save the world, I have to do it in my twenties. I have a very, very limited window to get this task done, and if I miss the deadline then I'm placing my other two life goals in jeopardy. I'm racing against a biological clock and a dating market where a woman's value is inextricably tied to her youth and fertility, while men are free to remain on their purpose for eternity while their stock continues to rise. Men have a whole lifetime to save the fucking world, which is why I get so pissed off when they are incompetent at it. I wish I had all the time in the world, but I don't.

So to fix all of the world's problems in my twenties, I need leverage. Leverage is power. If I trace every problem in the world back to its root cause, I have a fulcrum in place. The only thing I have to do to fix the world, is reverse-engineer the universe. And how hard can that be?

So this is why the system feels rigged. The patriarchy has proved themselves to be incompetent at solving this problem, and they need some help from a feminine sage who can pull information up from the implicate order, and translate it into the logical language of the relative realm. I can help them help themselves, and then send them on their merry way. But if I can't do that in time, I risk losing out on those other two priorities in my life. If men fail, they can get back up and start again. If I fail, I can't ever get my youth back. I'm going to end up living alone, with multiple cats, being the aunty to your hyperactive ginger-haired children.

And so here I am — approaching my deadline, and freaking out because of it. I feel like I'm dancing on a razor edge and I just... I dunno. I just feel different about it all. I feel like my life crumbled to pieces in 2019, and now I'm in the process of re-assembling something new from the rubble. Something ordered and secure and stable. I want stability. I want to feel safe. I don't think I've felt safe for the past ten years. I've always been teetering precariously on the edge of a cliff, then leaping straight onto another cliff when the previous one crumbled — all in an attempt to help people who probably don't give a shit, or even want my help. It's just exhausting, and I'm tired. I'm really, really tired."

"So... what? You're giving up?"

"No. I'm just changing. I'm choosing order. I'm choosing peace. That kind of restless ambition and need to prove myself while fixing everything that's wrong in the world is dissolving."

"But I love your ambition."

"How do I articulate this?" I stared off into the distance. "It's like Alexander The Great."

"The military genius?"

"Yeah," I smiled. "That dude. There is this great story, where he came across a philosopher in his path. A lad pointed to Alexander The Great and said to the philosopher, 'This man has conquered the world! What have you done?' The philosopher replied, 'I have conquered the need to conquer the world.'

That's what I'm doing. I'm conquering the need to conquer the world. I'm conquering the need to be everything that I think the world wants me to be, instead of who I actually am. I'm conquering the need to measure my self-worth using someone else's value system."

"You mean, measuring yourself by the success of your career?" Zac asked.

"Not just that. Take Silicon Valley, for example. I lived there when I was twenty, and it's an exciting place. It really is. But it's a culture that revolves around what you do, not who you are. People ask 'how much money have you raised?' and 'how many employees do you have?' and 'what's your traction?' And there's nothing inherently wrong with that. It's fine. I'm glad we have people like that in the world who want to hustle and grind twenty-four-seven to build these innovative companies. But hustling and grinding and being busy never worked for me. It's not what I actually want. I think it's what I've been told I should want, but it's not who I really am.

I want to be asking myself questions like 'how kind and courageous was I today?' or 'who have I helped and inspired recently?' or 'did I make someone's day a little brighter with a smile or a joke?' I want to be measured by my kindness, my creativity, the amount of joy or love or inspiration or positive impact I can bring to someone's life. I just don't want to play the 'fight-and-hustle-and-grind-your-way-to-the-top-to-prove-that-you-are-worthy-of-eternal-glory' game anymore.

Which is strange, in a way. My whole life, I've been told by modern feminism that I should want the CEO position; I should want to 'lean in' and work crazy hours to get to the top; I should want to fight my way to the pinnacle of 'success' and conquer the world; I should want to play by the rules of a value system developed by men who are biologically programmed to prove themselves as alpha male providers. I'm not saying it's a bad value system by any means — in fact, it's a value system responsible for so many first-world luxuries that I take for granted. But it's also a value system that reflects a very traditionally masculine ideal.

And newsflash: I'm not a man. I'm expected to play by a very masculine set of rules to be of value to society, but I don't have a dick — and neither does fifty percent of the population! I am just so sick of being shamed for my femininity. My femininity is not a weakness. There's nothing weak about being soft, or being fluid, or being vulnerable, or being intuitive, or feeling things very deeply, or seeing the world in ways that most men simply don't. And yet society tells me to suck it up and be none of those things if I want to add value to the world.

Even the modern feminists want me to espouse masculine ideals. They say it's all about freedom of choice, but God forbid you're a capable woman who doesn't want to take over the world. God forbid your dream is to be a full-time mom and raise a beautiful family and have an extraordinary marriage. Those choices get ridiculed and looked down on, which is so misogynistic. The same people who look down on full-time moms are the same people who want more stay-at-home dads. So these 'feminists' ridicule archetypically feminine traits, and then expect men to take on the same roles that they ridicule. I'm friends with a lot of high-performing entrepreneurial women, and I know one in particular who just wants to marry her partner and raise a family while her husband works. You only ever hear confessions like that in dark rooms when the wine is free-flowing — not in public. She'd never say that publicly. It's not something all women feel, but it's an unspoken truth among some high performers I know."

Zac made a face. "I don't get it. A moment ago you were talking about your grand plans to fix all of the world's problems, and now you're suggesting we should all sit around the fire singing kumbaya instead of working hard and making sacrifices to get ahead..."

"I'm not saying that-"

"Then what are you saying?"

"I don't know!" I laughed. "I'm just wrestling with all of these different mental frameworks and getting tons of merge conflicts. This is just me talking in real time, trying to figure it all out."

"Must you overthink everything?"

"That's a bit rich coming from you, 'Mister Logical.' You literally have three-hour-long arguments with imaginary people, just so you can intellectually outmaneuver their imaginary positions. You play chess against yourself just as much as I do."

"Fair," he said.

"And no, I don't overthink everything. I just have a very clean mind that operates like a delicate Rube Goldberg machine. If there is a logical inconsistency, the machine will break and I get anxious if I can't fix it. I like it when things make sense. It's very relaxing for me.

Anyway, circling back, I'm definitely not saying we should all sit around the fire singing kumbaya. I guess it's a question of integration. Like, how do I integrate my masculine and feminine energy, my creative and logical side, my short-term and long-term visions, and all that.

And I'm also trying to discern what I actually want, versus what I've been told I should want. What's worth fighting for? What's worth suffering for? Society has thrust a value system upon me, and it's just not working in my life. It doesn't fit me properly. I'm trying to figure out what it means to be a modern woman in this modern world, purely on my own terms."

"Sounds deep."

I chuckled. "Yeah, well, I'm the artist of my own life, and I want to sculpt a masterpiece that's bespoke and magnificent. That requires deep thought, not simply copying what everyone else has done."

"Like I said — sounds deep." Zac rubbed his hands together. "Now, back to the romance question. If you're focusing on yourself, does that mean I shouldn't set you up with anyone? I've got a few very smart and attractive gentlemen friends flying in to visit over the next few months. You interested?"

I shrugged. "I'm kinda over transient nomadic dating. I mean, I've met a lot of incredible men around the world. There are plenty of great guys out there. I dunno... I just think it takes a special kind of weirdo to be with me, and I haven't found him yet. I want to meet that one person, and build a life with him.

Actually, do you know that pair of wild scarlet macaws that fly past our apartment every day?"

"Yeah. They're gorgeous," Zac sighed.

"I want a love like that. Did you know scarlet macaws mate for life? And they live very long lives — up to seventy-five years. The pair that live near our apartment are individually vibrant and magnificent and totally free, but they choose to fly in unison. I've never seen one of them without the other by its side. That's a perfect relationship to me: one based on opportunity, not obligation. They're just doing life together. I want to do life with someone."

Zac put his arm over my shoulder. "My little derp is growing up!"

"Yeah," I giggled.

"You better hurry up, though," he teased. "Once your looks fade, you'll have to rely on your shit personality to attract someone. Good luck with that."

"Thank you for your radical honesty," I sighed. "But I think I'd make a good partner for the right person. We've been running around the world together for nearly ten years. I'm a good companion, right?"

"There's a reason I've put up with your lame jokes for this long. You're a dorky ball of sunshine. When you meet your future husband, send him to me and I'll make sure he's not an asshole."

"It takes one to know one," I teased. "And I'm sure I could raise lovely little human beings. They will be very creative and curious, and we will do lots of fun, exploratory learning projects together."

"You know, I've been doing some research on this," Zac said. "I really like the idea of raising kids in a community of people who share our values. I can't seem to find many families with our lifestyle, though."

"We'll just do what we always do," I said. "If it doesn't exist, we'll create it. At the very least, there'll be you and your family, and me and my family. I don't know where I'll be living or how often we'll see each other, but we'll make it work."

"Oh! Our kids are going to be the best of friends! I can imagine yours running around, bouncing off walls-"

"And I can imagine yours jamming knives into power points and setting things on fire."

Zac grinned. "Sounds like chaos."

At that moment, the doorbell rang.

"Be right back." I leaped off the lounge and ran downstairs.