I must see some sun or fall in love or both--nothing else will do. I used to love the rain. Love! At the moment I can't imagine what love is. It has been a long time now. I tell Michael I don't have a penis to think with, so that might explain why.
And what draws me? I reply that I like a man who leans into life. Who laughs with his mouth wide open and makes me think of my father, and all the other glorious men I've known and loved. I want a man with big brains and a hard body, who makes me howl at the moon. And a little sunshine wouldn't hurt, either.
He tells me that I easily win first prize for bringing about the most compelling dinner date he has been on for years. I reply that I enjoy hearing him talk. He tells me that if I like to get telephone calls, he is capable of a barrage of verbiage. Just like what Cosima Wagner once said of her husband, which is that such a man expounds at length on all subjects, including those of which he is completely ignorant.
He also tells me he is impatient. Excellent. I quite like impatience in a man.
What is my passion? I tell him that at university I work in computational biology. The study of the mathematical structure of various problems that arise in genetics programs. He replies that all he knows of this is The Genome Project, which of course is not at all related. I tell him that while my name is Elizabeth, I have nicknamed myself Z. Zed. Actually Zether, as in “Feather, Leather, and Zether Do The Big Apple,” a story I read in a literary journal.
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