There's going to be old fashioned notions in a man who's over a hundred years old, he supposes. Especially one who has been on ice for large portions of it. It always shows itself in stark, surprising ways, Zemo's noticed. Notions he may expect from Oeznik or older generations coming from young appearing lips.

Sometimes it's amusing, sometimes it's annoying. Zemo isn't certain how to feel about this. He can at least-- understand somewhat. It had been so much easier with his wife to settle into a relationship, to be the loving husband and happy family man. He isn't quite certain it's to do with predefined roles or expectations, or simply the fact he hadn't known loss quite like he does now.

Putting time and love and dedication into someone else only to be left alone at the end with all the could have been's and guilt sitting heavy on his shoulders nearly killed him once.

Either way-- "Our vows were the same, as your wife or your husband. All those pretty little promises like to love and cherish until death parts us."

Does it really make it so much easier if Zemo is a woman? Perhaps it does. At least there's no outright complaining or judgement, just that same curiosity. "What are you supposed to do, James? Out of curiosity."