Mating
JULY 14, 2020
Everything comes in pairs; Shoes, gloves, pants. And People. Especially people. Days before my 3rd birthday, I asked my parents where my person was.
“Everybody has a person, I said to my mom. Grandma has Poppy. Uncle Billy has Aunt Jane and you have daddy.” Where’s MY person?
My mother was very pregnant with my sister at the time. Everyone was excited and talking about “the baby” and how I was going to be a big sister. I was already a little mother; how would I be a big sister? I needed a person!
Days before my 3rd birthday, a great big box was brought into the house. My grandparents and parents gathered to watch me open it. It was a giant doll! My mother excitedly said, here’s your person! It’s Chatty Cathy! I pulled the string from the side of her neck. And immediately I hated her. I mean, c’mon…a 3-year-old who wanted a person was not going to be appeased by a fucking giant plastic doll with scary blue blinky-eyes and a pull string coming out of her neck!
Nearly 60 years later, I find myself again wondering, where’s my person?
I’ve been part of a couple for more years than not. Starting very young, my parents always liked to remind me how I was accused of being “the only married student” in junior high school, according to the guidance counselor. Fine. Yes, I had the same boyfriend for many years starting in Junior high school. If that made me married I was OK with it.
In Mate-Seeking, my subconscious plays a bigger role than I’d like. More times than not, I’m drawn again and again to a certain type of screwed up man, matching screw for screw to my father’s screws. In fact, I even knew that my intense attraction to my last mate was also an intense measure of his emotional damage. He best matched my dad, and in hindsight he exceeded the number of screws. If my screwed up subconscious could write an in-search-of ad, it would read like this:
MAN WANTED: Must be metrosexual, meticulous in your own hygiene, meticulous in your critique of mine; meticulous about everything. Should be smart, strong, yet silent type. Must smell good. No weird fetishes. Must not be overweight or (God forbid) a slob. If you make him tall and thin, with a great smile, and if he’s funny, I am sure to be smitten. Stars in my eyes, he’s my guy.
“Where is my person” was easier to answer when I wasn’t dealing with an illness. And when I was a decade younger. And a decade funnier.
Adam & Eve, Kanye & Kim, Sonny & Cher. The world is filled with couples. I’ve always felt that I’m not meant to live my life alone. I am happier with a mate. More fulfilled sexually, emotionally, mentally and whatever other alleys are filled by the presence of a mate sharing my life. Like the Albatross, I meant to mate for life. Also, like the Albatross, my girlfriends fill most of my needs. Every now and then, they have to step aside if the right man comes along.
I tend not to dwell in the past or the future. What serves me best is to deal one day at a time. I know it’s cliché, but it truly works. I don’t know if I’ll be without a mate for the rest of my life, or if an unexpected pairing will penetrate my world. Maybe some random dragonfly of a dude will hook up with me mid-flight!