I have some good friends, to whom I kept complaining that I was alone. They are animal lovers and practical people, so they offered me a solution. First of all, I had to buy a plant. If I did not kill it for a year, I had to adopt an animal and, if it lasted for an year, too, then I would be responsible enough to get myself a boyfriend. When I bought my apartment, they gave me an aloe plant. I tried taking care of it best I could. I even moved furniture around for it to have light, in a place with access to direct sunlight, but protected from draft. I would wet it often, careful not to have excess water.
When the third leaf turned brown, I was convinced that the Universe was sending me a message: I would die alone. I prepared to move it to a different pot, with soil mixed with wood charcoal and finely grind brick. Little rocks at the bottom of the pot, covered in a thin layer of sawdust. When I took out the plant, I realized it did not have roots. My friends played a trick on me.
Then, my mom had me put a wedding ring in a cup and cover it in honey. Every time I would pass by it, I had to whisper to it what I was looking for. Another friend had me make a list of qualities in which I had to minutely describe my ideal future lover, then forget about it and concentrate on myself.
After 9 Tuesdays of church-going and having the priest read out loud what I was praying for, installing and unistalling Tinder 3 times, I found him. A boy as per the list. Now I wish I would have written ‘generous millionaire’ or at least have added to ‘good driver’ – ‘who also has a car with air conditioning’. It’s so hot, that the 3 generations of flowered skirts in front of us at the supermarket queue sprinkle themselves with water from a bottle of window cleaner.
^ The photograph is from Tatiana Volontir’s portfolio, see more on her facebook.