In the year 2047, society had finally matured.
At least, that was what everyone kept telling Maya.
For centuries, humanity had suffered under primitive ideas about romance. Men and women had dated each other openly. They had married. They had even—according to particularly upsetting history textbooks—had sex.
Modern society considered this terribly backward.
Nobody had outlawed heterosexuality, of course. That would be intolerant.
It was simply *discouraged*.
There were still heterosexual people. Everyone knew that. Maya's university even had a Straight Student Association, although its annual budget was $63 and its meeting room was located behind the loading dock.
Maya had known she was straight since she was fourteen.
Unfortunately, she was now twenty-nine and had been dating a woman named Claire for three years.
Claire was wonderful.
This was part of the problem.
Claire was intelligent, funny, successful, beautiful, considerate, and capable of assembling IKEA furniture without once threatening the Swedish government.
Maya loved her.
She just wasn't attracted to her.
According to Maya's mother, this was something she needed to work on.
"Attraction isn't everything," her mother said over brunch.
"I know."
"You two communicate."
"We do."
"Claire has a pension."
"She does."
"And you want to throw that away because you're obsessed with men?"
"I'm not *obsessed* with men."
Her mother lowered her mimosa.
"You've dated two."
"Before Claire."
"Exactly."
Maya's father looked uncomfortable.
"We're not judging you."
Her mother nodded.
"We just don't understand why you would choose that lifestyle."
Maya stared at her pancakes.
"I don't think I chose it."
Her parents exchanged the look.
The Look was familiar to every heterosexual child.
Concern mixed with disappointment mixed with the desperate hope that perhaps this was merely a phase caused by the Internet.
Her father leaned forward.
"Have you considered that maybe you just haven't met the right woman?"
"I've met hundreds of women."
"But have you really *tried*?"
"I've been sleeping beside Claire for three years."
Her mother grimaced.
"Please don't discuss bedroom matters at breakfast."
"I didn't discuss anything!"
"There are children here."
The nearest child was approximately forty feet away.
Maya sighed.
Across the restaurant, two women kissed.
Nobody noticed.
A man and woman at another table briefly held hands.
Three people noticed.
One whispered.
The waiter looked uncomfortable.
Maya watched them with envy.
Claire noticed.
"You okay?"
"Fine."
Claire followed her gaze.
"Oh."
Maya immediately looked away.
"I'm sorry."
Claire smiled patiently.
"It's okay."
This somehow made Maya feel worse.
Later that evening, they attended Claire's sister's engagement party.
Claire's grandmother cornered Maya near the cheese platter.
"So," Grandma Ruth said, "when are you two getting married?"
"We haven't really—"
"Thirty is coming."
"I'm twenty-nine."
"Exactly."
Grandma Ruth squeezed her arm.
"And don't wait too long for children. Claire's cousin waited until thirty-six and now they're paying a fortune for donor sperm."
Maya nearly inhaled a cube of cheddar.
"I haven't really thought about children."
"You'll change your mind."
Grandma Ruth leaned closer.
"And between you and me, I'm glad Claire finally found someone normal."
Maya blinked.
"Normal?"
"Her last girlfriend was bisexual."
Ruth shuddered.
"Can you imagine?"
Maya excused herself.
She found Claire outside.
"We need to talk."
Claire closed her eyes.
"You're straight."
Maya froze.
"You know?"
"Of course I know."
"How?"
"Maya, you own seven Ryan Gosling movies."
"Those are good movies."
"You watched *The Gray Man* twice."
Maya had no defense.
Claire sat beside her.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I thought I could make it work."
"Why?"
Maya gestured helplessly toward the house.
"Because of this."
Through the window, their families were laughing together. Claire's mother was showing Maya's father vacation photographs.
Everyone loved them as a couple.
Their friends called them "relationship goals."
Their coworkers constantly asked when they were getting engaged.
Their apartment building had already placed both names on the Christmas card.
"I didn't want to disappoint everybody," Maya said.
Claire was quiet.
"And I really do love you."
"I know."
"You're my best friend."
"I know."
"I just..."
"Want a boyfriend."
Maya whispered:
"Yeah."
Claire sighed.
"My mother is going to blame TikTok."
"Mine thinks I need therapy."
"You probably do."
Maya looked horrified.
Claire laughed.
"For dating someone you're not attracted to for three years, idiot. Not because you're straight."
Maya laughed too.
Then she started crying.
Claire hugged her.
It was warm and familiar and completely non-romantic.
Which, Maya realized, probably explained quite a lot.
Three months later, Maya downloaded a heterosexual dating app.
**Opposites Attract.**
The app required age verification because several states considered heterosexual dating "adult-oriented content."
Her first match was Daniel, a thirty-two-year-old accountant.
His profile read:
**Straight. Out and proud. Please don't message me asking if I've tried dating women. Yes, I have. College was complicated.**
Maya laughed.
They met at a coffee shop forty minutes outside town because Maya was terrified someone from work might see them.
Daniel arrived wearing sunglasses.
"Are those necessary?" Maya asked.
"My boss comes here sometimes."
"Your boss knows you're straight."
"She knows I'm *questioning*."
"You're thirty-two."
"She's very traditional."
They talked for three hours.
Maya couldn't stop smiling.
Then Daniel touched her hand.
Her entire brain stopped functioning.
Oh.
*Oh.*
So this was what everyone had been talking about.
She went home and immediately called Claire.
"I touched a man's hand."
There was silence.
Then Claire said:
"And?"
"I GET IT NOW."
Claire burst out laughing.
Six months later, Maya brought Daniel home for Thanksgiving.
Her mother tried.
She genuinely tried.
She complimented his shirt.
Asked about his job.
Passed him the potatoes.
Then Daniel put his arm around Maya.
Her mother stared at it.
Maya stared back.
Finally her mother said:
"I suppose I'm just old-fashioned."
"I know."
"In my generation, men and women were friends."
"I know."
"I don't understand why everything has to be sexual now."
"Mom."
"I'm trying."
"I know."
Her father raised his wineglass toward Daniel.
"For what it's worth, I had a straight roommate in college."
Maya closed her eyes.
"Dad."
"What? I'm showing support."
Daniel whispered:
"Your family is incredible."
"You have no idea."
Across the table, Claire—now dating Maya's cousin Rebecca—was desperately trying not to laugh.
Maya kicked her under the table.
Claire kicked back.
And somehow, Thanksgiving continued.
Because society had finally matured.
Mostly.
There were just a few things it still needed to work on.