Strawberry Letter | 2021: There Will be Sex

Netflix

Hey 2021,

In the before times, I had every intention of putting real effort into dating. A herculean feat considering I often find talking to men both tedious and incredibly boring.

I downloaded an app, and I hate dating apps. Enlisted a friend to help me with witty responses and fretted over my lack of thirst trap photos. It’s not my strong suit. I accept that. I was determined to find a few good men that could make me laugh, show me a good time around town, and when they talked a little too much, would let me sit on their faces.

I’m a lusty lady who doesn’t have time for nonsense, so I’d hoped I’d be able to find what I desired in male companionship and continue to live my best life on my own terms. Not too much to ask, but as you may know, none of that happened.

Instead, the app became more tedious and I got even lustier. The world was falling apart, and it wasn’t even safe to try and catch a [redacted *wink*] anymore.

Considering the hell and high water of last year, 2021, I’m begging you, once this horrid period of history is wrapped up (preferably no later than this summer), will you please find me a few nice personalities attached to big … egos (thanks for that, Beyoncé)? I beg of you. It’s been too long. I am sick of my own touch—that doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop touching things. But seriously.

It doesn’t help I’ve been subjected to one too many fine-ass men on some of my favorite television shows this year. It’s entirely too much!

Sterling K. Brown makes me want to crawl under my bed and scream. This man looks like a GAWD.

Justin Hartley—also on “This Is Us”—wears a tank top and I find myself staring at his clavicles, shoulders and forearms so hard I want to bend over the nearest piece of furniture.

Bridgeton’s Regé-Jean Page makes me want to do filthy things in public, in private, I don’t care. where. Whatever the Duke of Hastings desires.

I watched a movie called, 365 days, on Netflix. This movie was so bad I had a headache at the end. I watched it more than one time though! Because it had a hot guy in it who had a lot of sex.

Even my more innocuous shows aren’t safe anymore. One day, I was minding my Black business watching season two of “The Twilight Zone,” when I got to the episode, “The Who of You.” I didn’t know what was happening until it was too late. There I sat squirming and fidgeting, when it dawned on me that Daniel Sanjata is a big ol’ fine-ass MAN. They’d snuck an absolute smoke show into one of the casts and now, here I was, caught off guard, and puddling.

I can’t take it anymore! 2021, you will bring me viable men who do not make me want to run into traffic once they begin talking! You will present me with men who know how and when to shut the hell up! I refuse to continue down this path. You will provide me with prime <makes hand. Motion>, attached to good men who I have no interest in marrying, but could be friends with afterwards—if I feel like it!

I deserve to have companionship, fun and hot sex just as much as I deserve all the other things that make a life goodt. I refuse to be neglected in this way any longer. We’re doing this 2021. It’s going to be hilarious, sexy and really wet. So grab a towel and buckle up.

About the author

Perdita Patrice is a writer and aspiring screenwriter living in Austin, TX. She loves canceling plans, Netflix, and attending live shows. You can follow her on Twitter and Instagram @perditapatrice.

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