She was starting to believe she saw patterns in her head. She was starting to give me conclusions. I wanted to tell her that I have no trouble getting men to like me, but the fact of the matter was that I am still single. I hate that she is implicitly blaming me for being single. It is very unfair. I would never do that to my daughter. But she's too lovely to hate.
She asked me to explain how I have never regretted all my failed relationships. I am sure she has never regretted anything either. I am sure it is not an alien concept to her. But she would be ready to feel that regret on my behalf, if she had to, so that I wouldn't. She consoles herself from my refusal to be worried about anything by telling me that she prays to God that I will find the right man. Amen, I say. At least that part is covered so I can focus on other things.
Mr. Seven replies to my email later that day. I emailed him because it is his birthday, and I remembered because of facebook. It is a long delicious email that feels accidentally articulate. On our second date several centuries ago, he was the one who saw the irony of being an atheist eating ice cream on the steps of a church with a virgin muslim girl who wasn't fasting. He was too shy to kiss me. He told me he would never email me once I'm gone because he would not have the stories nor the writing skills worthy of mine, and it would be unfair for me. He said it with a comfortable confidence, which could only mean he would do anything he could be horrible at because it wouldn't damage him one bit.
I haven't found the right man perhaps, but I've found the right memories.