birds from dinosaurs

It's like time slowed down when he described you. Now, what was it he said? Something about long blonde hair, honeyed by the sun. Two-toned eyes, blue fading to brown. Cute little nose. I don't know - he soon remembered he had a picture of you in his wallet and proceeded to ruin the whole thing. I was busy building you up in my mind when reality grabbed me by the lapels, shaking vigorously. Such a girl does not exist! Idiot. Reality's like that; a little abrupt.

A string of details
like pearls on a chain-
milky, white, opalescent.

So how is it that you come to be sitting across from me right now? I'm picking at a sandwich, wishing it had more tomato. I'm being elusive. Avoiding eye contact. How would you react if you knew that I had met another you? In another time, another place, another universe? In my goddamn mind. Jesus. I'm clearly not listening, so you repeat your question.

"I said, where have all the men gone?"

"What?"

"The men, you know, the real men."

"I, I'm not sure I-"

"Okay, so, once upon a time men were men and women were women. It was a time when men and women were allowed to be themselves. Two seperate, and very different, beings co-existing. Then, something changed: men became women and women became men. Now we're all looking for the wrong people."

I wasn't sure what to say, so I said nothing. The way I took a bite of my sandwich must have told you that I wished you to continue.

"I'm just tired of finding these men who are trying to be women, you know? I want a man who looks like a man. A man who forgets to shave sometimes. A man who doesn't have his eyebrows plucked, his back waxed. I want a man who doesn't have perfectly manicured nails, who doesn't think so much about his toes."

I smile, chewing.

"A man who doesn't know the difference between foundation and concealer, who doesn't get into my eye cream, my masks."

I try to pick my teeth with the point of my knife when you're not looking. I'm sneaky like that.

"I want a man who likes hunting, fishing, and hanging out with the boys. A man who doesn't apologise every time he comes home late, who doesn't always place his underwear in the hamper. A man who wants to take me to a hockey game instead of the ballet-"

"Hmmm..."

My Hmmm serves to break your concentration, bringing your rant to an end. You look at me expectantly, awaiting a response.

"Well?"

"Did you ever come here when they used to put capers in their steak sandwich?"

"Were you even listening to me?"

"Oh, yeah, I think my mind was wandering. Uh-"

"I think I love you."