I recently learned that the male (Y) chromosome is, apparently, a defective X. You could imagine that the bit that dropped off was the extra rib that God took from Adam to make Eve. Hmm, I wonder who has my 13th rib? Could the fact that relationships have such potential for joy and tragedy have something to do with the fact that it’s the 13th rib? It’s quite a coincidence too that in Hebrew, rib (pronounced “reev”) refers to the procedure for a court case, particularly, (I think) the prosecution. Rather uncomfortable that. The 13th rib: doesn’t sound like fun at all.

If I do find the person with mine, I shall have a bone to pick with them – certainly from them. Or words to say at least. Perhaps somewhere along the line those words will include “Will you marry me?” and “I will.” If so, “Yes dear” will be two others that won’t be far behind.

copyright Troy Grisgonelle 2007.

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