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Those are just the top few opinions I get, so yeah, I’ve stopped volunteering that information. If you think anything about how a person is naturally built is a choice, then we have nothing to talk about.

“You sure you don’t want me to set you up with Jackie’s sister? She’s not quite as lovely, but I hear she’s a freak.” Carter gives me a big grin.

The thing about Carter is that he can talk a big game about checking out other women and shit but he’s a damn lap dog for his girlfriend.

There are really sweet romantic kinds of love like Caulder and Lo, Keno and Etna, and Hilt and his wife, Letty.

Then there’s the disgustingly obsessively sweet kind of love. And that’s Carter and Jackie.

I mean, good for them. I’m not at all shaming. But it’s not for me.

Well, probably. I guess I’d need to fall in love and see where I fall.

“Thanks, but I’m good.”

Carter shrugs. “Care to share the space?” He reaches for another of the hexagonal balls.

I nod and turn back to throwing my ball against the wall. The minutes tick by slowly. Carter is always chatty, so it helps to have him around. I end up taking my earbuds out so I don’t have to keep saying ‘what? ’ every time he speaks.

He’s a good guy. He’s an incredibly intelligent person, too.

When he was in college, he was going to school to be an aerospace engineer, and from what I understand, he was killing it.

It’s really cool to know someone like that.

When he gets talking about physics and space mechanics or whatever, I’m almost instantly lost, but his enthusiasm feels like you’re watching science come to life.

I wonder if I’d feel differently about it if my teachers had been that excited about literally any subject.

There’s some merit to that thought since I’m totally invested when he starts talking space shit.

Even though I might only follow along at about a 3% comprehension rate.

I have no doubt that when Carter Keller is finished with hockey, his name will still be making headlines, but in a very different field.

Finally, I can go home. I’ve reached the time marker required for me to train today and then some. It felt good to socialize, but once I step out of the gym, my heart starts skipping around in anticipation of signing into this site and finding my future. Just like the corny subject line promised.

I don’t want the so-called American dream. I’m not that cookie-cutter. I want my dream. My perfect forever. For the first time in a long time, I feel hopeful that maybe I can find it.

The drive home isn’t as Zen as it usually is. That transition out of hockey space and into personal life is usually fluid. I can almost feel it with each slow mile I drive home. This afternoon, I feel all over the place.

Because I’m a little distracted, I practically run into the older couple who lives on the same floor I do.

They’re a few doors down, and they’re probably one of the sweetest couples I’ve ever met.

They invited me over for Thanksgiving a couple months ago, so I wasn’t alone for the holiday.

Outside of being with my family and last year with my Arizona friends, it was one of my best holidays away from home.

“Sorry, Ellie. Didn’t mean to plow into you,” I say as Paul grabs my arm to keep me from toppling over sideways as I try to slow my momentum and not run his wife over.

She’s laughing as she pats my cheeks. “Why are you in such a hurry, darling?”

“Been a long morning. And I’m sweaty. Need a shower. Don’t get too close or I might sweat all over you.”

Ellie gives me a face, but I can see it’s just pretend. “That’s the funky odor I smell. Go shower.”

I bow my head. “See you soon.”

“Stop by for some tea later, will you?” Paul calls after me.

“Yes, sir!”

They take the elevator I just vacated as I head for my condo.

I force myself to take a shower, get clean, and make something for lunch before allowing myself to log into the site.

Instead of going straight for the profile build, I decide to peruse who’s out there and looking for the same future I am.

I lose hours on the couch as I scroll, and to be honest, it feels a lot like dating apps, except there don’t seem to be any pictures attached to profiles. Curious. I suppose the philosophy of falling in love with a person and not their appearance applies here.

Which is honestly fine. Their appearance isn’t the most important thing to me right now. I’ve started scrolling directly down to the sexual preferences, interests, boundaries, etc. section. In a life partner, this is the most important thing for me at this point in my life.

That’s likely why it feels a lot like dating apps. I’m disappointed with each one.

I’ve gone through dozens by the time I reach Arush Bakshi and scroll down to her sexy section. It’s the very first one that gives me pause as I read it. Not just because it’s the first one that’s not a basic list or talking all clinical and shit, but I finally see something I can work with.

I’m not going to pretend I’m a virgin since lying is generally frowned upon in a relationship.

But I will say that I’m not overly interested in sex with someone.

I prefer my toys over sexual encounters with other people.

I don’t have a reason, and I don’t want to be fixed or trained or whatever.

But full disclosure is that, while I’m not necessarily repulsed by sex with my partner, it’s not something I’m going to want to do frequently or even regularly.

If that bothers you, I’m not the right partner for you.

If you think you can change me, I’m not the right partner for you.

So many of her words fill my chest to the point where I have to sit up because it feels like someone is on my chest, preventing my breath. Well, fuck. This is it. This is her.

Wait. I need to read the whole profile, right?

I can’t base a match on sexual needs alignment, though that seems like a really good start.

I’m so excited, so jittery, filled with so much damn hope that I can only manage to skim the rest of Arush’s profile.

It takes me a long time to calm myself and try to read everything with clear eyes.

When I’m finished, relatively convinced that I’m not seeing anything of concern, and slightly confident that this is the woman I’ve been waiting for, aside from just her sexual disclosure—that’s what it was, right?

—I spend some time making my profile. Like Arush, I’m very clear on my sex question and put in capital letters that I’m asexual, and this is not negotiable.

But, you know, a little more eloquently than that.

I’m incredibly frustrated when I have to wait again for my profile to be approved. In that time, I read Arush’s profile over and over again. It’s almost one in the morning when I get the ding that my profile is live.

Immediately, heart in my throat, I hit the ‘ Connect ’ button on Arush’s profile.

And then, once more, I wait.