If need be

Propositions were nothing new to Sissy, from men and women alike. It was with their increasing frequency and obscurity the realisation dawned that she was living on an entirely different planet to mostly everybody else.

“You know how I feel about you. And we can do anything you want... even move to deepest darkest Peru if you like. I want you to be the mother of my kids, we don’t even have to be together if that’s what it takes.”

I need you and neither of us are getting any younger he had inferred. You’d better hurry up or you'll be left barrenly standing outside the gate. Meaning well, but the declaration also evidenced that he didn’t know the real her at all.

Exactly when Sissy had reversed roles with practically every man she had ever dated she couldn’t put her finger on. But there it was. No longer her key to feeling secure, happy or even ok, and along come a bombardment of the desperate to prove their manhood and correctly functioning sperm. Murphy’s Law Sissy, Murphy’s Law.

It wasn’t that Sissy didn’t want these things. Rather, the intense need upon which they hung their hat kept her navigating in the opposite direction. As the hats, for the most part, were ten gallon – heavily flourished with laden bands of ‘at all costs’, societal rule books and obligatory norms.

You can bark up that tree all you like, she thought, and never find what you really seek. “Thank you,” she said quietly instead, declining politely as had occurred so many times before. Fully confident of realising the fulfilment of her own deep-seated desires and dreams, that were, as she spoke, manifesting on their way to her.