Captain Marvel

Carol Danvers is one of those baiters on dating apps— you know, a girl who appears to be cute, independent, and mysterious; but then you meet her for coffee and it turns out she’s boring, lacks personality, is hostilely feministic, and has bad lines. 

You get to the cafe and she arrives about forty minutes late. You awkwardly wonder if you should ask her about the delay, but eventually decide not to. You later learn from other people on the dating app that Ms. Danvers infamously disappears often during times of dire need, and emerges at the very last moment, just in time to save the day— be it defeating a giant purple grape, or loading the last and heaviest box into a moving truck. 

She sits down and you immediately notice something different about her than in her pictures on the dating app— she’s gotten a haircut. It looks like a bad 40’s cut, pouffy and short. You try to overlook this, because maybe she’s a very interesting and kind person, and hey, she still has a pretty face. 

You ask her more about herself, and she responds vaguely, almost wary of you. She demands information from you in an interrogatory way. She tells you about losing all memory and waking up on an alien planet, possessing strange powers. She tells you how she was indoctrinated into the alien culture; how she was trained in combative skills and how she was commanded repeatedly to not let emotions overtake her and compromise her ability. As you listen to this, sipping your cappuccino, you wonder how she was ever commanded to stop being emotional, considering her vocal pattern and facial expression has been unchanged and monotone this entire time. In fact, her face has a resting position of plasticness, like a Barbie who scowls instead of smiling— the face seems to also be her way of conveying anger, and disgust, and smirky triumphant contempt. 

Between sips of (very) dark coffee, she tells you about her lack of understanding of her life’s purpose. “For the longest time, I didn’t know who I was,” she explains. “I didn’t understand where I came from or why I did what I did.” 
“Why DO you do what you do?” you ask inquisitively. “What’s your motivation in life?”
She shrugs, perhaps the hint of a smile cracking across her stone face. “I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone that.” 

You nod slowly, nibbling the corner of a croissant. 
Carol stands up briskly, straightening her leather jacket. “Want to go for a walk?” 
You hesitate, then agree. Carol insists on paying the bill, and then you both make your way to the door. You attempt to hold the door for her, but she crosses her arms and angrily tells you off for oppressing her and thinking she is weak. You meekly nod as she makes you stand back and rips the door off its hinges. She’s so powerful that every other girl you’ve dated seems weak and pathetic in comparison, which instead of being impressive, is annoying. 

As you two walk in the park nearby, Carol isn’t making much conversation. She briefly mentions her friends— a former co-pilot and her daughter, some shape-shifting creatures called Skrulls, and a man she calls “Nick”, who sounds like a lovable, bubbly, slightly incapable grandfather. It turns out he’s Nick Fury, former head of S.H.I.E.L.D., and you’re taken aback. “The way you described Nick’s behavior sounds nothing like how he is today. Are you sure he wasn’t a Skrull that whole time?”  
Carol glares at you. “Are you doubting me?”
“No, I just mean—“ you quickly backpedal. “What changed? I know Fury always says he stopped trusting people after he lost his eye... what happened there?” 
“Oh, yeah, basically a cat scratched his eye.” 
You blink. “That’s... THAT is how he.. loses his ability to trust people? He goes from cuddly and cruisin’ to a hardened spy, just like tha—“
“You can ask him yourself if you ever go on a date with him,” Carol responds sarcastically. 

You find this to be a good place to end the date, and pretending to get an urgent call, you get away as quickly as possible. You watch Carol shoot up in flames into the sky (her jacket and the rest of her clothing somehow magically not burnt) and fly away. 

For a moment, you consider deleting the dating app from your phone, but you see a few more promising profiles— someone named Wanda, and another who goes by Shuri— and decide to wait around.

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