Ping!

It’s the lawyer. He’s been persistent, and I’ve been curiously sitting back as he pursues me. I’m not sure that I’ve ever taken on the role of moderately disinterested yet still flirty one before. I’m not sure that anyone’s ever pursued me as diligently as him.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better!”

“Up for some company?”

“Sure! Come help me celebrate my last night of urban camping.”

“Great! I’ll be there in 30 minutes.”

He arrives, and I meet him in the parking lot. He steps out of his car and catches me around the waist with his arm.

“I like your dress,” he says, and kisses my neck.

In the elevator, he moves towards me and runs his hand up my leg to the hem of my yellow dress.

He stands close to me in the kitchen as I tend the pot of rice, the chicken in the oven. Slice a mango into the salad. He looks intently at me, draws his hand down my back and over my hips.

“What do you like about me?” I ask him. I’m not going to miss out on this opportunity for feedback.

“I like that you’re smart. I like that you’re sweet. I like your smile and your teeth. And I like your ass.”

Each man that I date is so different. This man forward with his intentions. Good natured, overly-educated, buff and broad-shouldered, kind brown eyes, soft skin, and brashly open. A good Canadian kid from Burnaby. I feel like I’ve known a dozen of this man before.

He leaves after dinner. I hug him, wrap myself firmly into his muscled torso, bite gently into his shoulder. He laughs and presses into me with a passionate kiss.

I pour myself some gin. Light some candles.

I have suitors; I have lovers. Slowly, I am realizing what exists for me. Slowly, I am coming to accept that I am attractive and desirable. Unsure how I got here or when it happened, but I’ve become someone worth pursuing.