Link pulled out her file.  One gay.  One man in another state.  One 40-year-old Italian.  There were some obvious problems with the file considering the title–“Men I Have Considered Marrying.”

What happened between Link and these three men was nothing short of ordinary.  Each story filled with hope and commonality, then crestfallen–or gay.  Link sat in her Kansas prairie attic and thought for a while.

Link’s impressions:

#3.  I immediately thought of you as Emile DeBecque, that dashing Frenchman in South Pacific.  This was appropriate for the obvious reason that DeBecque was played by the Italian actor Rossano Brazzi in the film version of this slightly offensive musical.  Distinguished and knowledgeable–these adjectives were etched into every muscle, bone, and movement of your body.  Tall, fit, strong, quiet, greying.  The appeal was undeniable.  I found myself sincerely hoping you had a wife and family so that I wouldn’t have to deal with the superlative manliness.  Fortunately, this turned out to be the case.  Unfortunately, I did not discover this until 8 weeks into our relationship, friendship though it was.  Oh, I was anguished at night, but you knew how to lessen the torment by teaching me to cook real, delicate Italian food.  Food that took timing and intention.  I have to say, I also learned some lessons on love in that tiny kitchen of yours–like that it also takes timing and intention.  If you were not 40 and married, you would have been enough for me.  Your gentle teasing, strong arms, and grounded nature made you enough.  Did you know that?

#2.  Norwegian guys were once my greatest ambition.  I grew up with them and found them the epitome of simplicity.  They consciously stayed away from drama.  They showed excellent sense in driving their trucks to the other city cafe to avoid stirring up trouble.  You, sir, were a great Norwegian.  You had jokes and made them appropriately.  What’s more, your jokes made me laugh honestly and like a whole person.  Further, when I first looked in your eyes, I saw a depth of sincerity often absent in men your age.  Your humor was neat, direct, clear, and appropriate.  You didn’t push limits for the sake of pushing them.  You made choices as you spoke and I could see them, but you appeared relaxed and off-the-cuff at the same time.  It was this delicate balance of intention and spontaneity that drew me.  But in all of this cleanliness, your passion stayed your own.  If you had but sought me, you would have been enough.  Your focused speech, easy spirit, and wide smile made you enough.  Did you know that?

#1.  Days were easy with you.  My whole body relaxed.  This was true even before I knew you were gay.  Perhaps it was an innate knowing that allowed me to set aside my impressing genes.  I did, however, like to wear impressive jeans when I was with you.  We matched in so many ways.  Musicians.  Writers.  Composers.  Loud Laughers.  People who knew what we liked to eat and drink–however more adventurous I was in that area than you.  Communicators.  We could talk for hours on end and still have more to say.  But you were not for girls.  If you weren’t gay, you would have been enough for me.  Your honesty, creativity, and style made you enough for me.  Did you know that?

Link dumped her file in the trash, realizing it was defective and defunct.  It wasn’t working to only tell herself of the possibilities.  She needed to start showing others.  A file was not the same as a letter, or a conversation for that matter.  Link pulled out a new manila folder.  “Steps I Am Taking Toward Telling Men They Are Enough for Me.”  She stared at it for a while.