Elise inhaled the intoxicating scent of Aphrodisiac incense. She tucked them into her clear plastic bag, counting 50 incense for $10.00. Then, she tossed a few bottles of scented oils into her arm basket. Aromas calmed her. They nurtured her when she had no mate to fulfill the duty.
As she drew the nurturing into her nose, she imagined him. He’d accept her past—even though she once confused love with intimacy. He’d have 0 to 1 child because ‘baby mamas’ conflict with the connection—especially multiple ones. He must have his own car because she refused to run a taxi service, better credit than she had, be sensitive enough to appreciate love stories but manly enough to put her in her place when needed. He must love the arts. Admire a Monet and know who he was. Know that Angelou coined the phenomenal woman. Be faithful, obedient, god-fearing, supportive, open-minded, non-materialistic.
He had to make her laugh that tear-jerking laugh. And never sleep on an unresolved argument. Recognize and utilize his gifts. Have a desire to travel to foreign countries and speak their language, jagged and broken, without being embarrassed. Look past her morning breath and pillow lines when telling her how beautiful she is. Hover above her at 6’0 or taller so that she’d have to tippytoe her affection. Put her first—above his mother or his friends or video games. Aspire for success and push toward it. Be a looker that liked to look at her.
No exceptions. No compromises. She pulled a 20 dollar bill from her wallet, paying for her momentary nurturing. It would appease her until he arrived. And if he never did, she’d forever intoxicate herself with the possibilities.
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