Digging for Gold.

The world is changing.

Is it or are hidden things coming to light? Like precious stones clamped underneath hard rocks left for miners to find. Ever wondered how a coconut was edible. In fact, why do we study biology it is all going to shit.

The world is changing.

I don’t think I am changing with it. Change is hard, change is scary, change is the unknown. A grown woman, my ideas and ideals made up. How do you expect me to change?

I need a husband, children, a family.

For what? I don’t know. Self-fulfillment?

I have a good job; I do well for myself. But yet something’s missing. Maybe a part of the mine I am yet to survey.

Yes, I’ve dated in the past. You don’t reach thirty without shooting some hoofs. None of them are worth my forever. They are too compulsive or impulsive or altogether repulsive.

That rhymed.

Hear me out though, why do I need a man to top this luscious cake. Why do I get downcast faces at events as if it is the end of the world if God forbid I die alone?

The thing is, I don’t want to die alone. I want to love. I want to be swept off my feet. For my heart to pound, for my stomach to flip. Haven’t felt that in thirty years.

I leave my parents’ house with my heart in my hands. My mom gave the speech again. Something about wanting grandbabies, my father wanting the family line to continue, me rolling my eyes at every sentence. What struck me was the emphasis they had on me getting a partner. Their eyes shined whenever they said the words “someone special”. Made me have goosebumps.

People have made assumptions about my sex life, some of my colleagues still think of me as a virgin. My parents have gone through evolution without me. They think maybe I’m gay. They aren’t the first ones.

But I’m not. No! I know I’m not. Just because I don’t want to be with someone, some guy doesn’t mean my orientation different.

I walk into a restaurant and sit at the bar. Three guys sat in the corner, a lady in black and white hunched over their table, taking orders. Apart from the trio, the place held no life.

“Sorry, I’ll be right with you.” the bartender said, his back to me.

Turning with a tray in hand, I discover He was a She.

“What can I get you?” she asked with a smile.

I was either tongue-tied or still depressed from my parents, as I couldn’t get a word out. “I um–” I shook my head and gave a sheepish smile. “Sorry, um, I thought you were a guy.”

Her smile widened, and my heart skipped. “Yeah, I get that a lot,” she said. “I blame the haircut, you go in for something and you get sideburns and layered mohawk.”

I laughed. It was a foreign sound, a loud sound that slipped into a girlish giggle. “I like it, it suits you.”

“Well, that’s a first.” her smile widened, and I promise, my heart melted and my mind froze.

“Is that weird? That I thought you were a guy? It’s not like patriarchal or something.”

“No, no, as I said, I get that a lot. Let me fix you a drink.” she turned, leaving me to piece together her face in my mind.

“Alright, here you go, hope you like it.” she placed a glass in front of me. I took a sip and smiled. Then she smiled.

“It’s good.”

“Thanks.”

“Is it, um, is it weird if I say you have a beautiful smile?”

I hide my grin in my drink. Did I... Did I just hit on a girl?

I am of the school of thought that when you like someone, you perceive it, you do. As I look at her, with her eyes so dark light doesn't pass through them, I know that in them I can find my treasure.