Imagine that you and I are settled in around a glowing campfire. It’s late here. The moon is hidden behind the clouds. We brought the makings for s’mores – but more than that, we’ve brought spooky stories to tell each other. The forest around us is thick and dark, and a wolf howls somewhere in the distance. At least…we think it’s a wolf….we hope it’s a wolf.

You know what I want? I want those nebulous, undefined, unpossessive, healthy, relationships that are deep and meaningful and transcend conventional definitions. I cannot get enough of them. Yet modern media often can’t handle womxn and mxn having those types of relationships.

I just finished the complete Murderbot series by Martha Wells (I chose the format of audiobooks narrated by Kevin R. Free, which were phenomenal) and I’ve been trying to wrap my head around why I absolutely adore this series; to understand why it resonates so strongly...why the chord it plucks deep within my own experiences are ones so intimately known, in such a multidimensional way.

There I was, watching the downpour through my window, stuck in quarantine in the height of the pandemic. I was daydreaming of a summer romance in Cousins Beach, entertaining the idea of camaraderie and burgers at Luke’s Diner, wishing to be as cool as characters in K-Dramas.