Man slaves. That’s how it all started. I had joked about it once…and it stuck.

A friend once was appalled that I preferred male roommates, “How could you…what if you start to like him?”

I have always hated the quote from When Harry met Sally, Men and women can’t be friends because the sex part always gets in the way.

As a result, I hated chick flicks for years because they never reflected the kind of life that I had. I have this urge to show my independence (ingrained in me by my fierce dragon lady mom) and as a result always somehow related better to males especially starting in college.

Sure there was a period where I was nearly attracted to every guy I met. But then there was a realization of what I really liked. Never went to college? Immediately off my list. Fat fingers? Gone. Fobby? Erased. Can’t fix a computer better than me? I don’t think you even existed.

That is not to say this isn’t a path to friendship to me.

Of everyone that I meet, nothing even gets past stage 1. Except for a percentage of 5%. It’s this small percentage of people that interest me that can sustain my interest for more than an hour. It’s this same percentage of people that can spend the entire day with me without causing me irritation or annoyance due to difference of values and expectations. It’s this percentage that makes me suddenly want to be a better person, to help them be a better person…and be more whole…together.