I fell in love with a woman from the future.
But I met her here in the present.
She’s a modern woman. Young, especially now. But even now, she embraces and embodies what it means to be futuristically female. And conducts herself in such a way that makes her fully and fiercely independent. This is the 22nd century woman. She is aghast only of missed opportunities be they for money or for love. She loves men with a passion. Young and old. Preferably older. Her stride carries a presence that turns every sidewalk into a catwalk. Everywhere she goes, men flock to her like bees to honey. And they will fall at her feet should she glance at them and invite them to.
Feminists sneer at her out of jealousy. “How dare she be beautiful, even give and accept love from masculine men!” The pious and family women scorn her saying “How dare she experience so much pleasure without ever bearing children.” After all, nobody has ever approved of those they don’t understand and less so of those that embody what they want but cannot have.
She makes even the most gorgeous jealous and the most entrepreneurial envious. Because she has what neither of them has. Both at the same time and the wind of the cosmos pushing against her sails.
What is most magnificent, perhaps, is that despite having all this, she remains meek and humble. Cares for the poor, and for others more than herself. She loves giving more than receiving and derives joy from giving pleasure and comfort.
What’s that? You can’t quite fit her in any mental paradigm? Yes, I know. Like I said, she comes from the future.