Cupid

I caught up with Cupid a few months ago at Starbucks and cornered him against the wall. He seemed exhausted, possibly even a bit frightened. His arrows were old and worn out, and his bow seemed lopsided and splintered. I didn't have time to tell him the Christmas list of qualities I wanted in a woman, so I settled for the cliff note version:

"She has to be smart, but not so smart she knows everything. I want her to be beautiful, but that beauty should shine through with her smile and personality and eyes, and not just with her looks. She should have class, possibly even sophistication, but there must be at least a pinch of street in her--enough jazziness in her demeanor to hold her own when I'm not there to smash whatever problem confronts her. She has to be feminine--I grew up in a world where everyone had to be hard and calloused; I'm looking for softness now, even kindness and joy. Strong, spontaneous and have a deep passion for life. Sensual and fun and adventurous. She must like to read--I am a writer, so my words have to be able to touch her deeply on the inside. Spiritual and independent. I will always stand by her side and have her back no matter what--she has to do the same. A ride-or-die chick who is prepared to be Bonnie--because I have spent most of my life being Clyde. And when she loves, when she finally opens the floodgates to her heart, she must be a female who loves hard. She will get the same in return."

Cupid glanced over my shoulder when I was finished, but none of the people passing by dared to help. His voice sounded hesitant and shaky when he finally opened his lips to speak. "And if such a woman doesn't exist"

"Then I will be single for the rest of my life." I replied, my eyes as cold and certain about this fact as they had ever been about anything in my life.

---Marlon leTerrance