T. and I tried writing our own personal ads and compared results. She wrote:
“Blonde bluestocking girl seeks handsome butch for Boston marriage. Kiss me by starlight—hold me up... & drive me all night—and we can talk until dawn.
“Married genderqueer dyke seeks wife. You know who you are.”
I realize I was going against the grain of the genre to a certain extent—but I don’t think hers was exactly seeking the mysterious stranger, either. Really it was all just a laugh, and things around here are getting easier. There are still miscommunications and just so much ground to cover, lost time to make up, old, half-forgotten wounds to recognize and mourn and try to heal—but I think it’s happening. She is a daily revelation.
And judging by her reactions in bed last night and this afternoon, she won’t be placing that ad anytime soon.