She is not what I would have wanted to choose for myself
(note: this is not to say she is not what I want. she is.)
My sister in law cornered me at the party of the year, a homemade lamb slider on a glass plate on her lap, fingers curled around a bottle of hard soda and asked:
“Is that her?”
She gestured at a young lady who was in attendance at my behest and I choked on my beer, surprised by the question and surprised by the object of conversation. All I could do was shake my head in the negative.
“Then who is it? Because you’ve been gone every weekend. Who are you seeing?”
I could not make any denial worth it’s salt and I didn’t want to. There was someone; is someone; someone who could matter if only I could be patient.
(I can be patient. It’s hard when you find what you want, to be patient, but if you truly want it, then you can wait)
“She had another party to attend.”
“So what’s she like? What’s her…” a poignant pause, “background?”
Oh. Oh! That question. Well. Hmm…how to say…
Not what I would have chosen for myself. But what I want:
Hard as fuck.
She’s great and that is all I want, all I need.