The morning after my friend date with Tyson, I sent Bella a brief thank you text. I wanted to tell her more about it, but I needed a few days to fully figure things out. I had a lot on my mind: there was my sexuality, I was stumped on an ill feeling pet pig, I had to clean every inch of my already clean home for my grandmother's impeding visit, and I was trying to deal with the anxiety of facing my friend group at Josie's birthday party next weekend.

     I had RSVPed my attendance that morning. We texted easily in the group chat about the party essentials, making a list of all that would be necessary for the weekend away at Josie's favourite cottage. No one brought up the argument. I had suspected that they wouldn't bring it up over text. This was an in-person type of conversation. Still, I was almost surprised that they hadn't removed me from the chat. Not that I thought that I had done them wrong, or that I needed their forgiveness. I would not be apologizing, but I held no resentment towards my friends. Though I didn't agree with the approach of the matter, the conversation had erupted from their desire to ensure my happiness. They hadn't meant to attack me. And it was probable that my impeding breakdown had heightened everyone's feelings. I got overly defensive, and they took that the wrong way. It was a problem of miscommunication and lack of education, but I blamed neither myself nor them. I had no doubt that we'd be able to smooth things over. But I suspected that feelings of guilt would linger on both ends.

     For the first time in my life, I called in sick to work. I had checked my appointments and found no pending urgent surgeries or diagnoses. It was an easy day: a few x-rays, post-surgery check-ins and a few dozen shots. I called my apprentice. He was always eager to work, and he didn't fail me today. So, I took a needed mental health day.

     I didn't rush out of bed, that morning. I let myself gradually adjust to the incoming sunlight, as I leisurely prepared myself for the day. It didn't matter that my dishes needed to be swapped out for mom's preferences. It didn't matter that I had a closet full of gifts from my grandmother that needed to be hung across the house. I wasn't going to worry about any of it today. Today, I was taking a stroll through town as I used to long ago, to empty my head and let myself think.

     I wasn't so far in the closet, that I'd deny any possibility uttered by the blond mechanic. I had no doubt that I was, as he suggested, on the ace spectrum. I could embrace that. It was a relief to finally be inching closer to an answer. Tyson had so perfectly put to words what I'd been feeling for a long time. I spent most of the previous night further educating myself. And though at first, I had been fearful, I woke today with a smile.

     I ruled out Grey and demi-sexual quickly. I couldn't recall a single time that I felt any type of sexual attraction. And the labels, just didn't.... fit. I was toying with aromantic and asexual. I realised quickly that I shared Tyson's lack of desire in sex. I had always believed my lack of interest to be related to my lack of finding the right person. And while, I'm sure that was the case for some, when I really thought about it, when I tried to envision my ideal partner, I didn't feel as though sleeping with the person would ever appeal to me. And when I let myself truly be honest, I realised that I couldn't form the imagine of an ideal partner. As I had long struggled with, I didn't know what I wanted. And it only occurred to me then, that maybe I didn't know what I wanted because I didn't want anything in that sense. Maybe that's where I differed from Tyson.

     That's what I wanted to figure out today. There was no rush to put a label on it. I didn't ever have to label myself if I didn't want to. But I was curious. I could almost speak the label; if only I let myself push past that last bit of resistance.

     I put my running shoes on and earphones in and headed out the front door. I used to walk around my small town for hours when I was overwhelmed with schoolwork. It was a perspective changer. As I studied my neighbors: watched a child race up their front steps when they hopped off the bus; watched the teenage boy help an elderly man with his groceries; watched a soccer mom scrub her windows for the fourth time that week... It was a reminder that there were so many different ways to live. There is no right or wrong way to live. 

      I was a firm believer that if you put the work in, you were capable of achieving any of your dreams. But in the unfortunate circumstances that everything went wrong, that I was delt the shittiest hand and everything crashed and burned, well there were many other things to enjoy in life. If the vet thing hadn't worked out, of course, I would have been devastated. But when I realised that the disappointment of failing to meet society's expectation surpassed that of failing to reach my personal goals, I knew that my mind set needed to change. All my veterinarian career goals stemmed from my original goal of spending my days caring for animals. And so why did it matter what society thought about the way in which I went about procuring that goal? If I failed to get my own clinic and decided to adopt a dozen cats, a handful of dogs and a single lizard, so what? Surely, if it made me happy, that was all that ought to matter. 

      All that said not to diminish my achievements. I was incredibly proud of everything that I achieved as they were a result of a tremendous amount of work, but I knew that my achievements didn't determine my worth. If there were days that I was too tired to dress up, and went grocery shopping in my pyjamas, so what? I was failing to meet a standard created by society. A standard that once did not exist. We used to roam this earth naked. And so why should the clothes on my back determine my worth, today? And in similar manner, why should it matter what society thinks about my relationship status? A 28-year-old virgin. Some would look at me and think something was wrong with me. Surely, I was doing something to scare off the men. Maybe I was a stuck-up bitch with impossibly high standards. Maybe I was a prude. But, if I went out tonight, and did the dead, had sex before marriage, others would think I was an easy-lay. They would call me a sinner or claim that I lacked respect for myself. An unmarried woman, with no children? Surely, I was depressed and lonely. There was nothing I could do to please them all. No action or decision could possibly meet everyone's different standards and expectations. So why ought I try to please anyone but myself? Society told me I had to get married. Society told me I had to have children. Society told me that I needed these things to feel that my life had a purpose. But... What about what I wanted? What if I believed that other things gave my life purpose? Who were they to tell me that they knew me better than I knew myself?

      Strolling into town, sandals sliding across the cracked sidewalk, I watched the people around me. I watched two siblings wrestle for a magic eight ball. Watched a toddler tug on his dad's shirt, pointing eagerly at a doll that I assumed they were begging for. I smiled at the mother breastfeeding on a bench that I passed. I also smiled at the teenage boy helping his 2-foot-high sister across the street. I tried to imagine myself in the place of these families. I imagined walking to my favourite café with a curly haired child on my hip. Imagined pushing a newborn in a stroller as we walked to Daphne's to buy the oldest mini-Me's well-deserved tricycle... They weren't unappealing thoughts. But they didn't fill me with excitement either, nor did the burning desire to transform thoughts into reality arise. Did I want children for myself? Or did I want children to feed my mother's desire for grandbabies? Did the thought stem from my mother's belief that having children would fill a void that nothing else could? I genuinely didn't know. Time would answer those questions. But no matter what the answer was, I wouldn't need a partner to achieve those goals, if I didn't desire to have one.

      The partner thing was a whole other issue. The lack of sexual attraction, the asexuality, I could hide if I wanted. Not that I believed it was something that needed concealing. But I wouldn't be able to hide being aromantic from my mother. And that was scary. I would be destroying every expectation she had for my future. Zaina was a family orientated woman. It didn't matter to her what kind of job you hand, so long as you had a man to love, and children to pull against your chest. I couldn't imagine her ever understanding how I might not want what she envisioned. I would spend the rest of my life explaining myself to her and others. But educating my peers didn't seem so bad if I got to live the life that made me happy. And I had faith that someday, with ongoing education and a growing number of open-minded people, society would learn to adopt ways of life that differ from the norm.

     Grabbing a cup of coffee from Corner Express, I took a seat on the newly vacated bench. Overlooking the small park across the street, I sipped on my coffee. Deep down, I knew the truth, but still I felt the need to explore every angle. Tyson had talked about his desire for companionship, his liking of kissing and hand holding. The couple across the street shared this liking. Holding hands, they laughed as they watched their young German Sheppard chase the stick they had thrown. I smiled at the obvious display of joy. But when I envisioned myself in their shoes, I saw myself throwing a tennis ball at future Reginald junior; no one holding my hand, no one to hold me back as I chased the clumsy Dalmatian. In some mental pictures, my friends were watching in the background, passing plates over a red tablecloth. In none of the pictures did I pause my game of fetch to peck someone on the lips, and that brought me as much joy as I could detect on the couple before me.

     "Cute couple, eh?" I jumped at the voice. I hadn't seen nor heard the girl take the seat next to me. I nodded to answer her question. She probably mistook my smile for longing, the same yearning that seemed to sparkle in her eyes.

     "Single?" I asked curiously.

     The way she cocked a brow, made me backpedal immediately. I threw my hands up. "I'm not coming on to you," I promised.

     She huffed as if she should have known to think otherwise. "Of course, you're not."

     "I very much did not mean it that way." If I swung that way, or any way for that matter, I'm sure she'd make for a great candidate.

     She waved off the apology with a flick of her hand. "I'm just being petty," she said. "I broke up with my ex two years ago, and it's been a dry spell since."

     "I'm sorry?" I answered uncertainly. "You miss the relationship?"

      "It was definitely the right call to make, but yeah, I miss having someone to come home to. Someone to dance with me in the kitchen when I'm having a bad day. Someone to hold my hand when I'm nervous about a big meeting. I especially miss the snuggles, you know?"

      I blinked, startled by the question. Initially I was tempted to play along. Play the role of what society defined a typicalperson. But what was the point?

     "No," I admitted. "I can't relate, but it's cool that you do."

     "Ah, you're one of those people who run warm when they sleep?"

     "Not really." I was the wear socks and a long sleeve under three wool blankets type. My friends were always complaining of the whooping 24 degrees set on my home thermometer. She had no response to that. We sat in silence for a few beats.

      "So, do you always sit here and watch happy couples?" She made move to strike a deeper conversation.

      "Nah, only when I'm in the midst of life changing discoveries."

     "Same." She mumbled around a bite of her chocolate croissant. "Are you also waiting for the universe to smack you in the face with answers?"

     "I..." I hesitated, only frowning weakly. "I guess you could put it that way."

     My bench buddy started to say something, but I was distracted by a gush of wind blowing a flimsy piece of material in my face. I struggled with the silk for longer that I would like to admit. Finally pushing it onto my lap, with wild hair, I found my bench buddy giggling.

     "Damn," she whispered impressively. "I wish the universe was that upfront with me."

     A frown painted my face until I followed her gaze to my lap. It was a flag. Pink, orange, yellow, white and two shades of blue. From my recent research, I recognised it immediately. It was one of the versions of the aroace flag, and a little too much of a coincidence. I whipped around in my seat, searching for Bella in the quiet streets. I couldn't find her, but she was known to be quick on her feet.

    "This has to be my friend messing with me," I told my bench pal.

     She didn't seem so sure. "I don't know. It would be unwise and rude to ignore such a blatant sign from the universe."

     "I'm sure people get hit in the head all the time, with no intended message—" To prove my point, before the last word fully left my lips, before I could duck, a pigeon flew straight at my head. Colliding with my forehead, it fell in my lap. While my bench friend shrieked, I rubbed my forehead, letting the injured bird recover on my thighs.

     Leaning away from us, bench girl remained curious. "Any chance you're part pigeon, too?"

     "I'd like to think not."

      She hummed curiously, seemingly determined to find a message behind the bird attack. "Are you currently in or thinking about joining the mail delivery field?" That was a pretty far reach.

      "No. I'm actually a vet—oh my god! Coccidiosis!" My eyes shot up into my hairline, looking at the sky in disbelief. Coccidiosis could be transmitted by many animals to other animals, pigeons presenting common transmitters. "Wilbert has coccidiosis."

     "I don't know what that means, but I'm happy you do."

     I chuckled lightly, looking down at the flag and bird in my lap in astonishment. Was I losing my mind? I couldn't possibly believe that the universe sent a bird flying at my head to send a message.

     "It's always the disbelievers who get the biggest signs." She studied the clouds above us with resentment.

     "Hey." I nudged her with my elbow. "Don't get discouraged. Maybe that soulmate you're looking for, will walk out of that bus."

     The bench was right next to Oldwyn's only bus stop. People rarely got off here, but the doors were swinging open. A tall, Adonis looking, curly red-haired man walked out. In a suit that was tight in all the right places, and a brief case in his large hand, even I was impressed.

     "Damn." It was my turn to whistle impressively. "If this works out for you, I may become a believer."

     "Good looking guy." She nodded. "It's a shame I swing the other way."

     Just as I was about to suggest that he might have a single sister, a woman came out behind him. Despite her rainbow-colored outfit, the small she/her pin on her chest stood out. She was wearing every color on the color wheel, with purple scrunchies around her space buns, pink eyeliner, an orange shirt, and flowery green skirt. Somehow, she made it work. My bench buddy definitely thought the same.

      I gathered my things in a hurry, not wanting her to miss her chance "Well, I'll leave you to it." I tucked the flag in my back pocket, gently holding the pigeon in my hands. A look of near panic plastered bench girl's face, upon my pending departure. I studied bus girl a few moments longer, spotted her water bottle and grinned. I made sure bench girl's own water bottle couldn't be seen in her bag, then attempted to hand her the bird.

      "Take it," I urged. "The wing is a little messed up, but it's mostly stunned. Ask bus girl for some water; the bird will fly away in a few minutes. She'll think you're a hero. Baddabing Baddaboom, next thing you know, she's in love with you. Make sure to send me an invite to the wedding."

     Bench girl blinked a few times, but I left before she could object. Whether the universe was involved or not, I had faith in her.

     Bench girl had a lot of faith in the universe's involvement in my life. Which was a nice thought but either way, I didn't need any more confirmation. I knew the answer I was looking for. Part of me had long known it. The difference was that the fear of never living my truth now surpassed my fear of admitting those supressed feelings. I was ready to say it aloud because it was a very prominent part of who I was. And I had always been proud of the person I was.