And so I must look to meet you. You person whoever you are. Normal pronouns are so useless here, because you could be anything, any one, any body, any mind. I expect nothing before we meet and every damn thing after we meet. I want to still be young enough to believe in love, I want to forget I can't remember why I need love.

I've had a lot of sex. A lot. I'm in the fashion industry so the men and women I've laid next to are not frightening in the morning, nothing has been hard for me in the traditional sense of dating failures. I've had relationships, and I in no way belittle those feelings between me and those wonderful, tolerant few I've called long term lovers; they were real, but they were not forever.

I am looking for per*; that one who will be part of me emotionally and mentally to such an extent that it becomes physical. I want my long, tanned limbs to melt into the soul of another and ball together, everything as if one. No indiscretion would tear us apart, no torment break our bond. However painful and destructive we may seem to each other we could not, would not  be parted. Our relationship will be indestructable.

Most women my age interpret this screaming need as time to fill their womb with any glob of spooge they can download off the internet and produce thier own little brand new human to bond with. While I credit my female form as infinitely superior in the actuality of having that choice, I'm not ready to accept it as the only choice I have.

I cannot give up on you yet. I cannot settle for someone to keep me warm at night and help me rear young. I want you to come and question me, unnerve me and challenge me. I miss you already every day and I've never met you.

Where is my person? Where is my friend?


* Marge Piercy's use of non gendered pronoun from "Woman on the Edge of Time"

The End

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