My name is Michelle and I think I am ready for love.

ImageHi. My name is Michelle and I think I am ready for love.


You see, after my last serious relationship, I figured it would be easy to just have lots of friends with benefits because I am a shitty girlfriend and I tend to over think everything and pre-empt the worst of scenarios. This way, there were no commitments and no strings.

For a while it worked.

I met boys. We got along. We had sex. We had lots of sex. We couldn’t walk. We had some more. We went home. Separately.

It worked but then I realized it wasn’t the sex that I craved for. It was like-mindedness. Two weeks after I distanced myself from the last sexual relationship, I met a man who pulsated my brain like no other man could. He could make my loins throb just by his passion for The Boondocks and Dr. Strangelove. I’d get weak in the knees while we talked in depth about transcendental numbers and Hausdorff spaces.               

He was everything I wanted. Except, he was married. And while I generally am attracted to much older men, I couldn’t continue because I didn’t want to fall in love with wasn’t mine.

So, on the eve of the end of my 27th birth year, I decided I was going to look for love and not rush it and find a man who fits perfectly into my jaded being. His scars will cover my flaws and my arms will embrace his.

I want a man who doesn’t always take himself too seriously, who knows how to make sandwiches (for the times I disappear on an undisclosed holiday), who has a winning attitude to life.

A man whose eyes speak volumes and lips feel the power of a kiss. Whose ears have heard a lot more than they should have and mouth that hasn’t said much. A man whose favorite books are by Machiavelli but we could also talk about Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIHM.

A man who’s averse to glamour and chlamydia. Who likes his women smart and conscious that she has weight issues but is well balanced and sane when appropriate. Who knows the difference between right and wrong and has defined them on his own terms.  

He likes puns and pancakes in bed the morning after. Who likes to cuddle and knows when to stop. Who likes monopoly and loves scrabble. Who wants to travel the world and NEVER have babies. Who wants a quite wedding in arch ways with his best friends as best men and can count his real friends on his fingers. Who values his parents and loves them because he wants to and does not have to.

Who will allow me to spend time with them and listen to their stories and what it was like being a teenager in their time and how they fell in love and if it has been easy. And tell them that even though I’m half their age, I have scars too. And they petrify me because I’ll never be the perfect girl, not alone, not without their son.

And even if I never meet them, or find him, a girl can dream. 


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