The fact of the matter was that where women were complicated enough as far as Steve was concerned, the difficulties of what he had called finding a shared life history in attempting to explain it to Natasha in the midst of her matchmaking, things seemed to grow infinitely more tangled the more he thought about it. He had a hard enough time attempting to talk to women he was interested in when they were from his own planet, who had the same general baseline as himself when it came to how relationships came together. As if he had much of a clue while living in the future. As if he had been able to make sense of it when he had been looking at a woman from the same world and the same time as himself.

"Well," he began, drawing the word out as he set an elbow on the table and leant into it. "Last time I offended a woman I was interested in, she shot at me. Three times." Not that he could blame her, in retrospect, but it had been a hell of a shock at the time. "I've seen Sif toss a heavy bag across the room like it was made of cotton candy."

That was not even mentioning the complication of her being the friend and comrade of a friend of his. One who had, upon their first meeting, attempted to kill him with a hammer blow that might've made a Steve smoothie out of him had he not had his shield handy.