Doormat

Chapter 4

Poison Ivy was watching a romantic comedy on television while snacking on a tub of ice cream. "Outdated stereotype of women needing a man to save them," she muttered, glaring at the female protagonist. "Offensive to women everywhere. And the man would be arrested if he tried stalking her like that in reality. Honestly, I wish escapist entertainment could reflect real life more accurately. I blame Hollywood for everything that's wrong with society. Well, Hollywood and men, who control Hollywood, just like the patriarchy controls everything."

She took another spoonful of ice cream. "And does the woman actually need to be wearing something that skimpy? It's just pathetic objectification of the female form by the male gaze. Like those abs, though," she murmured, gazing at the male protagonist who had just taken his shirt off. "That's right – work it, baby..."

There was a loud knocking on Ivy's door, startling her from her reverie. "Red!" shouted Harley Quinn. "You busy?"

"No," sighed Ivy, heading over to open the door. "Just picking faults in this ridiculous, so-called romantic comedy. I blame trash like this for situations like yours, Harley. This crap just encourages women to become dependent, pathetic nutcases like you. Just watching it makes me furious."

"Well, gee, Red, if you hate it so much, why do you watch it?" asked Harley, puzzled. "Why doncha save yourself the stress and just avoid it?"

"Because the guy in it is hot," retorted Ivy, gesturing at the screen. "And I wanted to watch something while snacking. Ice cream?" she asked, gesturing at the tub.

Harley's eyes narrowed. "No," she hissed. "I don't wanna ever see any ice cream ever again!"

"Woah, that sounds serious," said Ivy. "Did J do an unwise move involving ice cream in bed? I've been there – you think it's gonna be all sweet and romantic, and it's just nerve-numbingly cold so you can't feel anything down there for a good while. It's probably what Freeze's wife is going to have to deal with if she ever wakes up from her coma..."

"Nah, it's nothing he did in bed," said Harley. "Unfortunately. Stupid peach over pumpkin pie preference," she muttered, kicking out at a plant pot. She squeaked and leaped back when the plant retaliated, snapping its stem back at her.

"What?" asked Ivy, puzzled. "What peach? What are you talking about?"

Harley sighed heavily. "Mr. J's got this...friend. Who's a girl. But not his girlfriend, because that's me," she added, hastily. "But this girl met him when she was a kid, and he did a nice thing for her, so she's grown up thinking he's the greatest. I don't like competition, Red."

"I don't like the thought that anyone thinks the Joker is the greatest," retorted Ivy. "Let alone more than one person."

"This girl's similar to me in a lotta ways," said Harley. "Shrink, blonde, adores Mr. J. Anyway, they've stayed in touch – she's his pen pal, and they write each other letters a lot. Now I don't begrudge Mr. J having friends – I'm not the jealous, clingy type of girlfriend who won't let him have his own space or his own life."

"...sure you're not," said Ivy, slowly.

"But lately, Mr. J's been hinting that he'd...prefer to be with her," murmured Harley, with tears in her eyes. "And the thought of that just kills me, Red. It's unbearable, the idea that he'd leave me for another woman. So I've been...kinda desperate to keep him, doing really anything he asks of me, no matter how inconvenient, or however much I don't want to."

"Harley, you can't live like that," said Ivy, firmly. "I mean, I don't really know how that's different from how you normally live, but I don't see how you normally live like that either. Anyway, doing everything to please J won't make him stay if he wants to go. It's just debasing yourself, and he'll ultimately leave you anyway. Trust me, bending over backward for a man doesn't mean he'll stay with you long-term. I know that more than anyone. It just doesn't work. If it did, I'd be married to Jason Woodrue, and what a horrible fate that would be."