Are you lonesome tonight?
Do you miss me tonight?
Sings Elvis Presley in the background.
I don’t.
Yesterday was my birthday.
Today is a new day.
Sitting at a wedding bar,
I drink nothing.
An old aunt, one that I always avoid
catches me.
I know the question in her mind.
After a few pleasantries, she spells it out.
So, when are you getting married?
I tell her my standard reply
As soon as I find someone worthy.
She calls me picky.
I want to yell just two blessed words to her.
But I stay quiet.
I don’t want her to complain to my mom.
My parents have their own challenges to fight.
But seriously, that question has hounded me for long.
I wish there was an easy answer.
But there isn’t.
Initially, it was a grieving heart.
Then it was the angry one.
Emotions fogged my eyes.
I pushed people away.
Then I complained no one stayed.
I was never devoid of attention.
Even though I was Xenia or Wonder Woman
Who slayed people with words.
But the search never ended.
Am I picky I sometimes wonder.
Yes, I am. And proud of it too.
Because just liking someone won’t do.
I want love, the never fletching type.
The one that is not afraid of the storm,
Or the rough weather.
The one that supports through every crack and
scar.
The one that protects you while you have doubts
And empowers you to fight the big bad world.
The one that asks and talks.
The one that is practically contemporary.
If there was ever a term like that.
The one that is so deep that it doesn’t needs
boxes or terms to put it in.
The one that accepts all the flaws and celebrates it.
The one that teaches and learns.
But most importantly evolves stronger with time.
And it is complicated. I don’t deny.
But that is where its beauty lies.
Yesterday, was my birthday.
I look at my old aunt,
Raise a tequila shot to my name
and walk away.