Why am I waiting?

I've spent years daydreaming of a man who'd love and complete me.

Constant reruns and late-night showings in my head

of whispered giggles in crowded rooms

and love made in a house that we'd own

with a library for me and a garden for two.

I thought, maybe with practice, I'd grow into that girl:

a Someone for someone else.

Well, I've grown. I've waited.

I've been let down. Shamed, looked over, disrespected, hurt.

And I'm starting to think that there may never be a Someone.

Grand love stories are written by women like me after all,

inspired by fantasies.

There are great men.

There are asshole men.

and every man in between, but there is no perfect lover.

So, why am I waiting?

Why don't I treat my body with more respect?

Why don't I eat what I want?

Make love to myself whenever I want?

Treat myself like a soulmate?

And so it begins.

The first time I look in the mirror

and see Someone.

Venus de Milo, the original Someone