Lovely On The Water – Part I, Entry 4

I looked at the booklet and started to fill out the form.

I checked off childhood diseases, adult ailments, last tests for STD’s, the name of my health insurance provider.

Then things got interesting.

Please list your preferences in men – looks, background, education, style, abilities, and any other specifications you’d care to include.

A hundred replies sprang to mind.

I wrote:

Tall, broad men with dirty-blond hair and blue eyes (I did not write, “Sylvan, my best friend’s husband.”)  Men who can put things in a new and unusual light. Men who’ve done a lot and have been everywhere.

I like men in casual clothes.

“What’s the matter?” Leslie asked.  Having long since finished her returnees’ half page, she was sitting back on her chair, the picture of relaxation, her arms behind her head, her feet out in front of her, her eyes closed – or so I had thought.

“I’ve never put any of this in words before.”

“Yeah, it’s kind of wild the first time, when they throw those things at you.”

“But it’s sort of fun in a way. Where else would I get to think about all this?”

“True.” She closed her eyes again.

I wrote, “I hate it when men keep turning their heads to see who’s coming into the room.”

“But what I really want in a man is that he should like my body – and I don’t mean my body per  se, but the female body.  I want someone who really likes women, likes how they look, taste, and smell.

As a heterosexual woman, I expect a man to have an entire range of smells and tastes when we’re making love.  I want a man who will appreciate all of my complexity.”

I signed my name.

“Are you through?” Leslie was tapping her foot against the white plaster floor.

“I think so.”

Leslie looked quickly at the sheet over my shoulder. “No, you’re not.”

“My god, there’s more?” I turned the page. “Oh, no, now the short essays.”

I looked around at the women filling out the forms and walking in and out of the tent. Some were tall, some short, some heavy, some slim, dark-haired, blond, red-haired, dark-skinned, light-skinned. However, they were mostly dressed more casually than I was. I’d worn my good luck dress – gold velveteen with a wide red belt. White leather boots on my feet. Clothes for a winter lunch or date.

Leslie, as usual, was dressed in step.  She wore faded denim jeans, a faded shirt, and a pair of tan and black rubber-soled boots.

My mind wandered back to the questions.

“Do you consider yourself an adventurous person?”

Cranky, yes, adventurous, no.  That one was easy.

“What was your favorite activity when you were a child?”

Again, no sweat. My parents had been kind enough to indulge me for my birthdays, year after year, early summer after early summer.

“My favorite activity was going on rides at amusement parks, especially the rollercoasters.”

“When and why did you stop?”

Slightly more thought on this one. “I stopped because I thought of it as an activity for kids.”

“If you could,  would you resume this activity?”

I wrote, “Maybe, if someone my age was crazy enough to go with me.”


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