Original subtitles

And 1,685 Backers present

in a film by Signe Baumane

My Love Affair With Marriage

Sakhalin Island, 1970

Prelude - INCEPTION

Mom!?

I’m hungry!

Seven years and nine months ago,

Zelma: Age 7 the several hundred million of Zelma's

father’s sperm cells, each carrying an entirely different set

of his genetic information, entered Zelma’s mother’s body.

Within minutes most of the cells turned out

to be unfit to continue the journey.

Following the trail of heat emitted by the fallopian tubes

the remaining 375 cells crossed through the passage of the cervix

into the uterus,

but only 97 were vital enough to reach the entrances

of the two fallopian tubes.

After a brief struggle, 32 sperm cells pushed their way into one of the tubes.

There they momentarily paused to catch their breaths

and assess the direction of a chemical trail.

Following the trail, 23 of them encountered

Zelma’s Mother’s egg cell ready for fertilization.

The egg cell contained a random selection

of one half of her Mother's genetic information.

In the race to be the first to penetrate the egg

there was only one winner.

The most vigorous sperm cell fused with the egg.

The tightly packed chromosomes in the tiny sperm cell then began to unpack.

The randomly picked chromosomes of Zelma’s father’s half set

combined with randomly picked chromosomes of Zelma’s mother’s half set

forming a new full set of chromosomes

a unique and unrepeatable genetic combination

that was the basis of building Zelma’s body and personality.

Zelma! Come home at once!

Mom will be be angry!

I’ll come right away, but later!

The chance of Zelma having the same genetic makeup

as her sister born to the same parents two years before

was one in one hundred trillion.

To prepare Zelma for survival in an environment familiar to her parents

the process of turning on and off the 23,000 genes carried by the chromosomes

was influenced by the fact that both Zelma’s parents in their childhoods

had lived through the trauma of air raids,

battle-field violence and post-war starvation.

Although at the time of Zelma’s conception

the peace had lasted for 19 years and 3 months

Zelma's fetus was developing a body and brain

amply capable of reacting to external attacks.

For nine months, Zelma’s fetus

received food and oxygen from her mother’s bloodstream.

Zelma and her mother were biologically linked,

their heartbeats in tune with each other.

It was a complex mother-fetus unity

that left an impact on Zelma’s brain development.

Before there was night

Before there was day

We humans were created

Out of clay.

Oh, we were so strong

So smart, full of charms

With two beautiful heads

Four legs and four arms.

The gods looked down And saw we were a threat

The magnificent creatures They would rather forget.

The gods licked their lips

And swords they drew

They sliced us with might

And split us in two.

Now weak and lost

Our halves wobble around

Searching for unity on every ground.

When two halves connect

It feels just right

This special event we call

Love at First Sight.

Marriage is your Destiny

You should patiently wait.

You're not a complete person

Without your Soul

Mate!

I am in the air! I don’t care!

Because of her hyperactive hypothalamus

by age seven Zelma knows the basics of staying alive.

But basic survival is just one part of life.

Part one - FORMATION

Age 8

After a ceremony officially opening the new school year

I entered the 2nd grade, class B, of 35 pupils.

As the new addition to the class, I was to be the 36th.

In an instant, I noticed that the class was clearly divided into two groups.

The first three rows were occupied by girls

and the last three were taken by boys.

No one but the 34 other pupils noticed the abuse.

It was a scene staged just for me with rules I didn’t know yet

but felt the script required me to act.

What are you doing?

Cut it out!

I said stop! Enough!

Stop it!

It was not the first time I felt my life was in danger.

I always knew how to fight my way out.

But this time I sensed I had made a mistake.

There were 34 pairs of cold eyes looking at me unforgivingly.

And then, I saw him.

Green eyes like green grass full of promise.

Skin smooth like a warm porcelain cup.

Cheeks rosy as if he, too, was in flames with fever.

I felt a ZAP!

In an instant, I realized that until this moment I was incomplete.

Here, in this classroom, was a person that had powers I didn’t know humans had.

I wanted to melt into, merge with the boy.

I wanted to become...

Complete!

She is not a girl!

She fights!

She is not a girl!

She is not a girl!

What does it mean - I am not a girl?

Hi.

Is it because I fight?

Why are you looking at her?

I'm a girl and have a girl repertoire.

Be like me

Borrow a move or two

From my library.

I don’t show that I know.

I always miss.

Ignorance is a girl’s bliss.

I am bad at English.

Do you like me now?

I'm a girl and I wear sleek dresses

Smart skirts and snazzy boots.

Tight jerseys, trendy pants and racy suits.

But I can’t run in those!

Good girls don’t run.

Being elegant is more fun.

Any form of attention

Is the right form of attention.

I am delighted to be in your consideration:

I’ll give you my full cooperation.

But what about my self respect?

ANY form of attention is a delight.

Do you like me now?

I am pretty, pretty easy on the eye

Like a sugar cup

And I know I am going to be pretty

Beautiful when I grow up.

I am not too short to be overlooked

Not too tall to smite with my height

Not too short and not too tall

I am just right!

I'm a girl and I'm weak

Just the thought of hard work makes me meek

I don’t carry heavy things

I leave that for kings.

But I feel strong. Is that wrong?

Here’s the deal: No one cares how you feel.

All that matters is how you look.

Be a good girl

Emulate, imitate, simulate by my book.

I’ll be the best girl I can be.

Do you like me now?

To make sense of the new environment that seemed full of unfamiliar dangers,

Zelma’s still developing limbic system tagged the boy

as a potential reward for overcoming her status as an awkward newcomer.

This reward is great motivation for Zelma to practice to be the girl

she hopes the boy will like.

I am a girl and I am weak.

I don’t smite.

I am pretty... meek.

Quiet and submissive

I don’t fight.

Look how this particular circuit of neurons synchronize

their activity pattern.

As Zelma repeats her new gestures

those neural connections get strengthened until they form a pathway.

Unused neurons and synaptic connections get pruned

to make neural transmissions efficient.

Zelma is effectively changing herself.

Let’s take a look at how the outside world responds to her learning.

Age 9

He was coming to tell me that all the attention he was giving to other girls

was a ploy to distract our enemies.

The one that he really loved was me.

Hi.

He was so close we breathed the same air.

The molecules that touched him

were also touching me.

I would give everything I have for you to love me.

Except for just one thing.

I don’t have special talents

No need to compete

Boys hate to feel small

When girls cause their defeat.

But I can do it in secret.

Age 12

Want to walk with me?

I didn’t need friends.

I was saving myself for love.

Love would make me complete.

It would make my body weightless

and everything would become easy and fun.

My happiness would never stop.

Love was just too good to give away to a friend

who could do none of those things.

They were right about you.

You are weird.

No one likes you.

Pervert.

Will Zelma scratch out the eyes of this girl?

Let’s see how her brain processes the interaction.

First, Zelma’s prefrontal cortex observes the event and sends

a quick electrical impulse to her hypothalamus for additional processing.

The hypothalamus perceives the word "pervert" as an insult

and urges the prefrontal cortex to initiate an assault on the offender.

At the same time it releases a series of stress signals

preparing the body for fight.

The prefrontal cortex requests the supplementary motor area

to imagine Zelma scratching the girl’s eyes out.

After viewing the footage the prefrontal cortex

determines that this would not benefit Zelma in the long run

and vetoes the action.

At this moment Zelma’s body, thanks to the stress hormones,

is in full fight mode.

But look at what she does!

What an impressive manifestation of self control!

The stress hormones, however, will cause her to brood over this event

for the next two days.

The blood was a sign of war.

Just a moment before, my body was intact and pure. Age 13

Now somewhere deep inside was a wound, a tear, an affliction.

Mom!

It’s not a war.

Not a war!

Not a tear.

Not a tear!

Not a wound.

Not a wound!

It’s the start of your monthly cycle.

You are on your way to becoming a woman.

A woman!

The worst is ahead of you.

The world is full of traps set just for us women.

Beware of everything

Especially men.

There are three simple rules for a woman to succeed in life.

One: Be a virgin until you marry.

Two: Choose and marry well.

Three: Hold the marriage together whatever it takes.

But how about love?

Sometimes love doesn’t work out that well

but you still have to stay married.

So, love your children more than your husband

and everything will be all right.

Children?!

You have wide hips delivery will be easy for you.

Before I forget - learn to cook.

Good cooking is key to keeping your husband’s love.

And keep your room in order!

Mess is death.

Order is life.

Become a good wife.

What do I do with this blood?

You bleed to be married!

Twenty eight days ago, the pituitary gland

released a follicle- stimulating hormone.

Together with estrogen it started the process

of Zelma’s ovaries preparing an egg

and thickening the lining of her uterus to provide

nutrients for a possible fetus.

On day fourteen an egg was released from her ovary

for ovulation, fertilization and pregnancy.

Since Zelma didn’t have sexual intercourse,

no sperm fertilized the egg

the uterus lining was not needed and is now discharged

causing her uterus to bleed for the first time.

Age 14

Hey you!

Give me your money.

I was not going to show my fear

to a corpulent teenager with a rusty pocket knife.

I considered my options.

I could fight and lose.

Or I could run and save my two rubles.

But running would be too manly.

The womanly thing was to plead for mercy.

I lied like a good woman.

I don’t have any money.

I don’t believe you.

Show me your backpack.

But I don’t have any money.

He only knew how to threaten not how to cut people.

Swear to your Communist Honor.

I had sworn to the Communist Youth organization

to be honest at all times.

But Communist Honor didn’t mean a thing to me

compared to the shame of being robbed.

I swear to my Communist Honor.

Okay.

Off you go.

As I started to walk away

I looked back at the pack of small boys cowering behind him

like a pack of small dogs submissive to their owner.

My Soul Mate was short for his age, a bit of a runt.

Maybe because he smoked two packs a day in the boys’ room during class breaks.

I didn’t expect him to defend me or voice objections to robbing me in the park.

There was no reason why anyone would stand up for me, especially a boy

who didn’t know he was my future husband.

But in that moment, I suddenly saw that I had been mistaken.

This was not my Soul Mate.

I was not learning to cook for this boy who was robbing girls in a park.

My soul was better than that.

I was going to save my purity

for my true Soul Mate.

You have to look great for your man!

That’s the deal!

Exercise your sex appeal!

You have to look great for your man!

That’s the deal!

Exercise your sex appeal!

I wanted to be desired.

Age 15

You are so exquisitely beautiful

and so mysterious

Like Mona Lisa.

Finally someone saw that I was special!

But I couldn’t break the spell.

Mona Lisa doesn’t move

she only smiles.

There was a reason why the man gave Zelma the compliment.

Zelma’s ovaries have been producing estrogen for over a year now.

Together with calcium, vitamin D, other minerals and hormones,

estrogen has been working to build Zelma’s bones.

Increased levels of this reproductive hormone also make Zelma’s lips fuller

and the skin on her cheeks softer and redder.

It sends cues to potential mates that she is fertile

and able to carry offspring.

I tried my newly-learned woman’s powers

on high school seniors at a local discotheque. Age 16

After three dances, they always wanted to get fresh air in a nearby park

where they would attempt to suck it out of my lungs.

Kissing made me feel powerful.

Their desire made me feel in control.

But their unforgiving urgency...

Please, don’t.

I can’t.

I won’t.

Okay then.

Let’s go back.

Made me feel powerless.

With puberty Zelma’s prefrontal cortex,

the part of the brain that controls impulses and emotions,

started to grow new synapses causing her brain

to undergo major neural restructuring.

At the same time her nucleus accumbens,

the key player of the rewards circuit, became hyperactive.

It made Zelma easily bored with her usual surroundings

and motivated her to look for new exciting experiences.

At this moment her underdeveloped prefrontal cortex

which should control her urges to plunge into the unknown,

is overwhelmed by the demands of the nucleus accumbens.

As a result, Zelma is prone to risky behavior.

I had been having an urgent case of feeling out-of-place,

so I took an overnight train to another town. But the people of that town,

so full of color and character when I was back home,

upon my arrival became inexplicably gray and ordinary.

So in the hope of finding local flavor,

I went to an art gallery.

Age 17

So, what’d you think?

He was old and composed.

I was flattered that a stranger of that age wanted my opinion on art.

But most likely he was doing scientific research

on how immature and ignorant the new generation was.

I decided to take his test

and surprise him.

I like the colors, but the figures are a little too abstract.

It would be good to see more sensuality in the nudes.

Sensuality? Hmm.

Your observations are right on the mark.

One of these paintings won a Grand Prix at Prague Biennale.

Can you tell which one?

This one is pretty good.

You really have a great eye.

Are you an artist?

No.

I am. These are my paintings.

The old man was an artist!

My heart started to beat faster and my mouth dried up.

Would you like to join me for some wine?

Spending time with an accomplished artist would definitely

rub some of his talents and accomplishments on me.

He would initiate me into the esoteric knowledge of Art.

What an opportunity!

It was strange to be so close to a stranger with no clothes on.

His breathing and heartbeats were vaguely familiar

as if we had both run a marathon in the same body,

but now had separated back into our own casings.

I felt something so new it didn’t even have a name.

A feeling I did have a name for was:

disappointment.

Where were the fanfares?

The ceremonial fireworks?

And endless bouquets of white roses?

Where was the unity of spirits and bodies

melting into one magical creature?

Losing my virginity turned out to be a very ordinary act

involving some pain and moderate unpleasantness,

not unlike weeding the rose bushes in my father’s garden

with bare unprotected hands.

But encountering Another Human Being

so close for the first time was new and frightening.

A part of my Self had been dissolved into the Other.

The electric currents from your head are so strong.

You're a thinker.

He knew me without me telling him.

You are beautiful.

I can see that you’ll get a lot of marriage proposals.

Wait.

Did he mean that I’d get a lot of marriage proposals

while we were married?

I was confused.

I wanted to be part of his world, the awards, the avant-garde crowd,

the power of fame and recognition.

But it seemed that losing my virginity didn’t quite accomplish that.

Will you...

marry me?

This was what I wanted to hear.

The key to the Promised Land.

The skin around his eyes was crisscrossed with wrinkles,

and his cheeks were slightly sagging.

He told me he was the age of Jesus, but I felt he only said that

to scandalize me by mentioning a religious figure.

He seemed so much older than Jesus.

Jesus had perfectly smooth cheeks!

I said the magic word...

Yes.

And waited a moment.

Nothing happened.

The magic must take place later then.

I needed to be alone for a moment.

I was drowning in a sea of unfamiliarity

and needed to regain my sense of self.

Just one hour to put my thoughts in order.

I want to go home.

I’ll call you.

August

There is no sense of power in waiting.

Just as a child has to wait to grow up,

a woman must wait for a phone call from her future husband.

I hoped it was time well invested,

because every minute was torture.

September 5

September 12

September 28

October 2

October 16

October 23

October 29

November 4

November 18

November 23

November 30

December

Six months ago, I had asked for more time to think it over.

I hadn’t realized then that I was given eternity.

Hey!

What kind of deviant Soul Mate sets such a trap?

Soul Mate, my ass.

What a slap!

You fell into a trap!

Your virginity

was a surety.

You are doomed without your purity.

Whatcha gonna do now?

Whatcha gonna do now?

Whatcha gonna do now?

Zelma’s hymen was a thin membrane in the shape of a crescent

that stretched across part of her vaginal opening.

Its purpose was to keep out germs and dirt.

Although African Elephants and some other mammals have hymens, too,

only humans attach social importance to the hymen.

I have to come up with plan B.

Part two - IMPLEMENTATION

Sergei’s parents had a great party the night before Sergei: Age 8

with exuberant dancing, spirited shouting and jubilant singing.

Sergei had listened to it from his bedroom,

angry that he was in the prison of being a child,

such happiness passing him by within the mere thickness of a door.

His parents didn’t have time to clean the apartment

before they left for work in the drabness of morning.

Now the dusty air mixed with a stench of rank potato salad,

moldy sausage, a slight whiff of puke...

and the cake tasted stale.

There was a half-liter jar filled to the brim with clear liquid

that looked like water.

Sergei knew this was the vodka his parents emptied

from the unfinished shot glasses of their guests.

In comparison with the rest of the apartment that seemed dull and gray,

this liquid emanated bright colors of summer green-blue sea.

The world had become an amazing feast of colors.

Sergei experienced a feeling he had never had before -

that he was finally whole,

that he was complete and at one with the world.

He staggered towards his room,

fell into bed, and passed out.

From the moment he was born,

Sergei was never sure if his mother loved him or hated him.

You are so beautiful!

I love you!

Mom, my tooth hurts!

You are such a pest!

I hate you!

The continuous stress caused Sergei’s Amygdala

to constantly send urgent messages to his Dorsomedial prefrontal cortex

demanding to resolve the conflict.

This kept Sergei under never-ending anxiety.

A few minutes after entering Sergei’s digestive system

the psychoactive molecules of alcohol flood Sergei’s brain

and attach themselves to his GABA-A receptors.

This hinders communication between his overstimulated amygdala

and his prefrontal cortex making him feel safe for the first time.

The alcohol also triggers the release of endorphins

in the rewards pathway of Sergei’s brain.

It causes Sergei to experience bliss.

The actions of the alcohol molecules alter Sergei’s neural pathways.

Sergei has learned how to step out of his suffering.

Sergei: Age 19

The University dormitory was 22 stories high

and hosted approximately four thousand students

the majority of them MEN.

I could try out my moves! Age 19

The attention felt good.

So many choices!

But it was also scary.

There was something very dark about men.

Just like hungry wolves, men were capable of tearing apart the things they loved.

They took my smile as an open invitation to take anything they wanted.

For self-protection I had to look cool and inaccessible.

To get ahead you need to build a base,

so at some point in our lives

we have to form alliances with the same sex.

This was easy with Darya -

we didn’t compete for the same things.

I love your hair.

It’s like sliding my fingers down glowing threads of pure gold.

The radiation saturates my hand with light.

Oh, but I am sure my hair is greasy and thin.

Would you like to borrow a book of banned Pasternak poems?

Sure.

Have you eaten today?

I have some buckwheat porridge with cheese.

I don’t want food -

it will kill my high.

My friend Darya spent her free time drinking and doing drugs.

She liked men who were boyish, like unfinished homework.

She wanted to initiate them into the spiritual side of narcotics.

God is in your hair.

Taking a small dose of LSD

lowered the blood flow and electric activity

throughout Darya’s default mode network,

which forms Darya’s sense of Self.

This causes Darya to experience the dissolution of Self.

She is keenly aware that she, Darya, is at the same time

the golden glow of Zelma’s hair.

Darya’s prefrontal cortex interprets this as a mystic experience.

Age 20

It was like a hunch -

go to the right.

So I went to the right.

Turn left.

So I turned left.

Open this door.

I opened that door.

Sergei made it.

Who is Sergei?

You know, the most popular guy at the parties.

He draws sometimes.

He's very talented.

He is over there, if you want to meet him.

That very moment I knew why I was there.

You.

It’s you.

That smell.

It blows my mind.

Sergei’s odor is made up of molecules that contain information

about the genes of his immune system called

the Major Histocompatibility Complex.

As a woman Zelma has fifty percent more olfactory cells than Sergei

On top of that, when Zelma is ovulating

her sense of smell is heightened to the point

that she can detect the scent of men whose

Major Histocompatibility Complex is different from her own

indicating a greater possibility for healthy offspring.

Sergei’s Major Histocompatibility Complex

fits hers like a glove.

You have a nice smile.

He was my own body and soul under the cloak of a stranger.

Now that the guises were off I could see clearly -

we were one.

I didn’t feel the limits of my own body,

as I didn’t feel the limits of his body

and together we didn’t have any limits with the endless world.

The past had shriveled up like an eaten apple

and the future expanded in front of us

like a galaxy of infinite possibilities.

Love like this never dies.

Love like this hardens into a diamond

to be discovered a million years from now.

We breathed as one.

Our hearts beat as one.

You are mine and only mine.

Now I will never be alone.

Please, don’t fall asleep.

Sleep will separate us.

I want you to be with me at all times.

He loved me.

I did not exist before I met you.

My soul was empty.

You fill me with purpose.

It feels good.

In fact, you are so good

that all those men before me?

I forgive you.

But...

No matter what you do,

I will always love you.

I will never let you go.

Will you marry me?

Yes!

Yes!

Yes!

I had cooked for him 17 times by now

and washed his socks three times.

I wanted him to ask me this question

and I was afraid of it.

But I didn’t have time to sort out my feelings.

It doesn’t work when you ask a man for time to think it over.

Yes!

It’s so much better when you use my mom’s recipe.

He liked my cooking!

I will always be there for you.

Always.

The moment Zelma fell in love with Sergei,

her neurons started to release three neurotransmitters:

norepinephrine,

serotonin

and dopamine.

They have three distinct effects on Zelma.

Norepinephrine makes her nervous in the presence of Sergei.

Serotonin makes her think of nothing else but Sergei.

Dopamine triggers an intense rush of pleasure,

increased energy, less need for sleep and food,

and it gives her great focus.

It also makes Zelma feel invincible and euphoric.

Aaaaaaaaah!

My baby!

My beloved Darya!

Why did I do this to you?

Please open your beautiful eyes, please look at me,

please tell me you forgive me!

I beg you

There was a dark secret side to the incomprehensible adult world

that neither books nor drugs told us about. Age 21

What kind of world was it where you made just one mistake

and you were dead?

Somewhere between the parties and getting drunk, high or stoned,

Darya had gotten pregnant.

She couldn’t believe that her body would do such a thing,

so she carried on as if nothing had changed

until her feet and hands started to swell.

She was too afraid to go to a doctor.

Besides, her mother had cursed her for losing her virginity

and banned her from coming home.

Then Darya’s whole body started to swell.

When she had a seizure we finally called an ambulance.

We were told that the baby had been saved at the expense of his mother.

Now Darya’s body was permafrost cold,

her skin a bluish color,

coated with tiny ice crystals.

Forgive me, Please!

Forgive me!

Men don’t die like this.

Men die heroically in wars.

A woman’s death is just so... banal.

Who dies in childbirth, for fuck’s sake?

In the name of the State,

I welcome you here to honor the life

and mark the untimely death of the friend you loved.

Uh... Darya Mishkina

was an outstanding citizen

of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics.

She was also a trusted friend and a caring daughter.

Would you like to say anything?

Darya was a good woman.

She could take a lot of drink.

Please say goodbye to your friend and daughter

Darya Mishkina.

Please close the lid.

I declare by law of the State

that Darya Mishkina now ceases to be a citizen of the Soviet Union.

She is officially

dead.

Let’s honor Darya Mishkina’s departure.

Darya was trying to live life to the fullest

and maybe she made a mistake or two.

But life doesn’t come with a detailed manual.

Anybody can stumble.

It was unfair that the guys she slept with got off the hook.

To be a woman is dangerous and can be deadly.

I was so afraid to be a woman.

The world is an incomprehensible, complicated place.

There are just too many shades in it.

I get lost in all the variations and possibilities.

But the world, it turns out, is very simple.

Just like a pimple,

The world is very simple.

It has only two parts -

Male and Female.

Male is everything rational.

Female is everything emotional.

Men are sane! Women are vain!

You can see it in nature -

air and earth have different qualities, too.

Laws of nature, by the pair:

Yin and Yang, Earth and Air.

Love exists to keep the world in balance and unity.

Women fall in love with men

because men are smart.

Men fall in love with women

because men need support.

Don’t ruin the beauty Of the natural plan.

Your woman's duty Is to be with a man.

Better to be a rose Than a wild flower.

Submission is your ultimate power.

In the name of the State,

I welcome you to this sunny hall.

Today you, the son and the daughter

of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics,

are joining lives together as a Soviet family.

Your private love becomes official.

All people of our great country

are looking at your union with hope.

Don’t disappoint them.

280 million people putting their hopes on us was a lot of pressure.

Marriage turned out to be more public than I expected.

As a representative of the State, I am asking you,

Zelma Liepa

are you ready to fulfill the honorable duties of wife and mother?

Yes.

Are you, Sergei Kholodenko,

ready to be a worthy support to your wife?

Yes.

Please secure your union with signatures.

By law of the Soviet Union,

with your mutual agreement witnessed and sealed,

I now pronounce you husband and wife.

You may kiss.

Dear guests and newlyweds,

let us honor this special moment.

Now he would always love me.

Unconditionally, like my family.

He forgave my lack of virginity,

forgave the bad meals I made for him when I was new to cooking.

If he forgave me that he would forgive my bad moods,

foul morning breath,

my menstruation,

my yeast infections

and my inferiority compared to his abilities and talents.

I was a complete woman with this man.

This marriage was made to be a legend.

It would outlast our mortal bodies.

Zelma’s initial attraction to Sergei was turned into a hunger for him

with the help of oxytocin,

a neurotransmitter hormone that Zelma’s hypothalamus

produces and stores in the pituitary gland every day.

When Sergei caresses and cuddles with Zelma,

or simply holds her hand,

the stimulation causes the pituitary gland

to release a large dose of oxytocin

into Zelma’s rewards center

as well as in her brain areas

which are important in inhibiting fears and promoting trust.

This generates in Zelma feelings of security,

contentment and calm when she is around Sergei,

and anxiety and fear when she is not.

Continual activation of the oxytocin receptors in Zelma’s rewards center

makes Sergei’s presence addictive.

Zelma’s deep, intimate bond with Sergei

drives her to trust his every word.

All your friends are snobs and perverts.

I am afraid it might be contagious.

Besides, they don’t like me.

Stay away from them.

You're right. You are so right.

Their anger is contagious.

All my friends adore you.

They are so smart, though a bit socially awkward.

You’re clever and good-looking.

They might fall in love with you.

I prefer you stay away from them.

Yes, I can see that,

cute but socially awkward.

I am not interested in their books and flowers.

All you need is me.

Oxytocin is a neurotransmitter with pretty diverse actions.

When released in Zelma’s rewards center

it expedites her addiction to Sergei.

When released in Zelma’s amygdala

it generates bias against people outside her special bond.

Oxytocin also works in larger groups,

holding together like-minded individuals

in religious organizations,

political parties

or fans of sports teams.

A by-product of this group bond is hostility towards outsiders.

Your ass is sagging there right under the cheeks.

Gross.

And your feet are huge.

They look like skis.

I’ve never seen feet like that on a woman.

You look like a freak or a pervert.

Halt!

This is your fault!

I should not have undressed in full light in front of my husband.

This is how a woman loses her mystique.

A woman’s skin is better imagined,

not when seen in all its imperfections.

It was my fault.

Without me, you wouldn’t know your flaws.

I hate to be afraid to lose you.

I wish I didn’t have these feelings.

I am scared of needing you so much.

You've played a trick on me.

You have bewitched me.

Don’t be afraid.

I am there for you.

You don’t shake it correctly.

You have to shake it: tat tat ah!

But you go: tati tati tah!

Does it matter how I shake as long as the soup is salted?

When you do it that way you look stupid.

This shaky salt

Is all your fault!

He was right -

a wife should be the body, blood and soul of her husband.

She should be able to read his mind and wishes.

I had to try harder.

My mother made seams perfectly straight.

I can’t wear clothes that have crooked seams.

They look pretty straight to me.

See?

They are not.

Unpick the seams and make them perfect.

Or do you want me to ask my mother to make pants for me?

There is only one woman a new wife must truly fear:

her husband’s mother.

She will never forgive a failure to provide for her son.

I’ll do it.

When I get loads of money,

I’ll rent a better apartment downtown,

buy a Mercedes for everyday use

and an Alfa Romeo for when I go out.

It must have hurt his feelings not to have a job.

To be a man with all the pressures to succeed

while the world plots obstacles in your way

had to be very demoralizing.

The least I could do was be his safe haven and boost his confidence.

You are not eating?

I am not hungry.

I hoped that we would have a better apartment,

that he would get a Mercedes,

that I would eat many meals.

That he would have a job one day.

Or, that he might let me go to work.

Come on,

how many more do you have there?

Maybe four hours?

I want to go with you to the party.

Can you help me, please?

I told you not to take the job!

But we need the money. And it’s work at home.

I knew you’d get stuck on this job with a deadline.

But if you help me?

Uh-uh-uh. I didn’t take the job.

It’s not my responsibility.

I hope you’ll be done with this by the time I get back.

I hate seeing those beads.

They are so passé and cheap.

This is unfair!

A man is free to pursue his deeds.

A woman must work on her beads.

Get lost!

Tick Tack! He won’t come back.

Zelma’s amygdala detects Sergei’s departure

as a threat to Zelma’s well-being

and sends a signal to several brain regions for additional processing.

Together, they interpret Sergei’s departure

as abandonment and social humiliation.

Zelma’s activated amygdala then triggers

a fear response in the hypothalamus

that sends a signal to the endocrine system

to release adrenaline and cortisol.

These stress hormones increase Zelma’s heart rate

and boost her energy and alertness

readying her for a "fight-or-flight" response.

Meanwhile, Zelma’s levels of oxytocin keep going down

causing withdrawal symptoms of craving and agitation.

At the moment, Zelma’s prefrontal cortex

struggles to keep Zelma’s focus on the beads.

Tick Tack! He won’t come back.

Tick Tack! He won’t come back.

Tick Tack! He won’t come back.

Tick Tack! He won’t come back.

Tick Tack! He won’t come back.

Tick Tack! He won’t come back.

She meant nothing to me.

It wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t get that stupid job.

But there at the party I was by myself, what do you expect?

I am only a man.

She was an empty shell compared to you.

You are the love of my life.

You are everything I have.

Come on.

You are a woman.

You have to forgive your husband.

And I missed you.

Just let me hold you.

I love you.

It doesn’t seem that way.

Love is a feeling. It is not an act.

You can’t see it, but my love for you is so gigantic

that trying to fit it into my body hurts my whole being.

Come to me.

Stop the hurt.

Haaaah-aaaaah

The moment Sergei touches Zelma,

oxytocin and dopamine are released into Zelma’s reward pathways again

causing a rush of euphoria.

You are so special.

Did they pay you for the job?

Yes.

Let me see the money.

My friends took care of me for two days.

Do you think all those fancy restaurants and fine vodka were cheap?

Now I have to reciprocate.

I’ll be back.

I couldn’t do this.

To be squeezed between feelings of anger and love.

I had to cut my ties with him.

I wanted him to die.

Zelma’s anger activates regions in her cerebral cortex

in charge of positive approach behaviors.

Her stress hormone cortisol levels now start to decrease

indicating that Zelma is ready to address the problem.

I like them.

I think I could sell these.

But why are they not signed?

Did God make them?

I am not so arrogant to think that a Divine

creature channels its vision through me.

Then sign the drawings.

Like a male dog marking its territory by pissing on street corners,

I pissed my signature onto my drawings.

Before they were anonymous like clouds in the sky.

After putting my name on the drawings

they became mine.

The signature created a new me,

the Artist.

Are you there, my love?

Love!

Love!

His voice was so special.

He was unforgettable.

Do we have to shout?

Work it out!

Get back together!

Marriage is forever!

I am sorry.

He was sorry and I was sorry.

We had learned from our mistakes.

We had to be together, because this was a marriage forged by Destiny.

It was love.

I missed you.

Nothing tastes the same without you.

I need you.

I am back.

Nothing compares with you.

You are part of me, I am part of you.

This time we’ll make it work.

What influenced Zelma’s decision to return to Sergei?

Let’s go back to the powerful neurotransmitter oxytocin.

Besides other functions, oxytocin is a key component

in uterine contractions at childbirth

and releasing milk when breastfeeding.

Because Zelma’s estrogen multiplies the effects of oxytocin

she experiences oxytocin withdrawal more painfully than Sergei.

And she is more susceptible to the oxytocin high

when it flows in her brain once again.

But the feeling of love lasts only as long as Zelma and Sergei

are both able to extend the effects of oxytocin.

You know why I am so hung up on you?

Because I feel that at any moment I’ll break you in.

You are so soft and pliant on the surface,

but there is some part of you that is tough.

I know that one day I’ll tame you.

Remember, no one can possibly love you more than me.

Uh-huh

I am very supportive of you.

Yes.

I am so happy the gallery likes your work.

But this is such a beautiful day.

Please stay.

Spend the whole day with me.

Just one day.

You can come with me.

No, you stay with me.

I will never let you go.

Let me through.

You can’t be more successful than me.

That’s not good for the marriage.

The moment I was certain I was going to die from the hands of the man I loved,

the man I used to love,

I realized that I wanted to sign a thousand more drawings before I died.

I am sorry.

Please forgive me.

We are both at fault, but this time I’ll make an exception

and won’t ask you to apologize.

I am asking you to forgive me.

Please.

I love you.

Love is just a word for you.

Love is a destruction,

an obsession,

a manipulation.

Love is a disease.

Love had brought me to a deep hidden place

where I found so much anger, resentment and violence

I could start a thousand wars.

It had to stop.

I vowed that I would never love again.

You will never make it alone.

Alone!

Without me you are a dumpling without a filling.

No filling!

Age 25

I have to come up with plan C.

Part three - RECONSIDERATION

Bo: Age 8 Bo’s parents had a party the night before

and didn’t have time to clean up before leaving for work,

so the apartment was a mess.

Usually Bo and his sister were barred from entering their parent’s bedroom,

as if it was a sanctuary, where only adults were permitted.

Now the door to the room was half open.

He remembered the dress his mother wore to the party

and had an urge to look at it.

Nothing fit, but with a gnawing feeling

that this was so right and so good,

Bo turned to the wall mirror.

The moment he saw his own reflection,

he felt complete and at one with the world.

As a fetus Bo experienced fluctuating levels

of estrogen,

testosterone,

and other hormones.

This left an impact on his brain.

Age 28

People always like to know how lovers met

and how they fell in love.

As if it could give them a map to their own fate.

The Soviet Union went down swiftly,

covering us all with dust.

The economy collapsed,

then it collapsed again

and when you thought it couldn’t get worse,

it collapsed again.

Only a few men knew how to negotiate with other well-positioned men

to make a living in this world

where public property was appropriated

in the shadows by the most connected and quick.

The new rich showed up, defiantly flashing their wealth,

making honest work seem like a fool’s errand.

In the Soviet Union women were considered part of the workforce.

Now we were looked on as a commodity.

And of course, you had to dress a certain way to be paid for your services.

A smart woman looks weak

Like she can’t make a living.

A wise woman is meek

And thrives on a man’s giving.

Aaaaah - Aaaaah

Smart

Weak

Wise

Meek

I didn’t have a man and the new rich didn’t understand my work,

so I barely made a living.

I had a sinking feeling that my life

was turning into a slow death.

Hello?

This is for you.

Yes?

I miss you so much!

A rich patron keeps buying my work.

I can’t spend all the money.

Please come back.

You won’t be sorry.

Money could solve a lot of my problems,

but could it change the essence of me?

Zelma

you are not a bad looking woman.

If you plucked your eyebrows

and wore short skirts

you’d be able to get a rich guy

who would take care of you.

Uh-uh.

I put your name down for a trip to Denmark

for an arts opening. Will you go?

This was to be my first trip to the West. I put my best clothes on.

I was afraid to touch the food on the trays.

It was so unfamiliar.

For the first time I noticed that the skin of my people had a greenish gray tint.

Was it because our food back home

was particularly deprived of nutrition?

Then I noticed how ill-fitting my clothes were.

Fearing that the perfect people of the West

would discover my other flaws, I stepped aside.

It was nice work -

perverse and innocent at the same time.

This was the moment that later I kept reexamining over and over and over,

as if it were the poison that also contained its antidote.

There was nothing familiar about this man.

He might as well have been an alien.

I sensed a hostility towards me.

I didn’t like him.

Do you speak English?

Now, about my abilities to learn English.

Here’s what my English teachers had to say.

No grammar!

No pronunciation!

No comprehension!

You will never speak English!

That was not very motivating,

so I decided to learn English in my sleep.

English...

mini.

My... name... is... Bo.

I am... from... Sweden.

This... is my work.

Oh, he was very talented.

Zelma.

Being so close to his perfectly made clothes

made me ashamed to be from the East.

He must have despised my falling apart shoes,

self-made skirts with crooked seams

and my big, unwomanly feet.

Would... you... like to...

dance?

But he was kind to ask me to dance with him.

It gave me a chance to show that I was good at something.

Since I didn’t speak much English

kissing was another way of having a conversation.

It felt... interesting.

I could taste our cultural differences.

Because I didn’t like him, I felt in control.

I could never love this stranger.

Trillions of bacteria live on and in the human body.

Together, these bacteria make up the human microbiome.

Because of their dietal and life style differences

Zelma and Bo each emit a unique blend of microbes into the air

from their individual human microbiomes.

For example, Zelma spent most of her childhood unsupervised

and had less than excellent hygienic habits.

As a result she was intimately familiar

with lice and a variety of parasitic worms.

Bo, on the contrary, grew up in a more sterile environment

and didn’t have the habit of eating sauerkraut on the verge of spoiling.

So when Bo kisses Zelma,

they enter each other’s microbial cloud and indeed,

from it they are able to sense their cultural differences.

Go ahead, don’t be bothered by us.

We’ll be quiet. We’ll just watch.

He was so vulnerable and fragile against the heartless world.

I had to protect him.

There was only one way to deal with this.

Strong curses in Russian

Oh.

I guess we are not welcome.

Come on, let’s go.

Yeah.

Wow! Whatever you said was super effective!

Perverts.

Not normal.

He needed me to navigate the brutality of the world.

My heart started to beat faster.

I had to touch him again, deeper this time.

By melting into his goodness and innocence

I would lose my corrupted ways.

I could barely constrain the overwhelming want.

I like it when you smile.

He liked me.

We were wrapped around each other breathing in sync,

and as our hearts slowed down readying for sleep,

they started to beat in sync, too.

Our body temperatures that at first felt different to the touch -

Bo’s colder, mine warmer,

now under the blanket became the same.

The border between the two bodies vanished.

We became a creature of two heads, four legs and four arms.

You are my mute princess.

The next day I felt a glowing hope that the chaos of the world

could arrange itself in an orderly structure

where my pain could be erased as long as his magic touch

poured its divine balm, soothing my fears and angst.

I was in love again.

Love! Love! Love!

No more pain!

Love! Love! Love!

All sun no rain!

Zelma’s attraction to Bo, an unfamiliar type of man to her,

increases the levels of her stress hormones

adrenaline,

norepinephrine

and cortisol.

These stress hormones give Zelma a surge of energy.

When dopamine is added into this neurotransmitter cocktail

it all leads to side effects such as increased heart rate,

loss of appetite and sleep,

and an intense feeling of excitement.

I’ll call you!

It was impossible to be back home.

I felt like an inflated balloon

trying to fit into a shoebox that couldn’t accommodate its new size.

Familiar gray shabby buildings,

gray malevolent people and a bleak looking future

made me despair.

But I also had hope.

I was in love with a foreigner.

Hello?

Hello? Are you there?

You were a dream made of virtue and sweetness

that could fill all my foul emptiness in one sweep.

Being away from you was a never-ending suffering.

I wished I could tell you all this.

Yes.

How could everything I felt and thought

be reduced to a mere pictogram?

I wished I had enough words to communicate my complicated thoughts

and nuanced feelings.

I should have put more effort into studying English.

I wanted to lay in front of him the truth...

I was a victim of bad circumstances,

bad men and bad parenting.

Nothing was my fault.

If I were born in Sweden, I would have grown perfect,

beautiful and blond just like Bo.

But I was born in the Soviet Union where perfection was punished,

tallness diminished,

and blondness made bland.

I am asking again:

do you think we could give it a fresh start?

I am rich now.

I sold a painting for a million rubles.

I can save you.

A million rubles?

Is that before or after inflation?

At least I would like to see you.

HE had to save me.

It was urgent!

Hello.

My... ah...

ex...

wants...

visit.

Oh, no! Please wait for me!

And sometimes our wishes are expedited.

I wanted to talk to my lover until my mouth was dry.

The essence of me could only be communicated through language.

I had to get through to him!

Oh, Bo, I so happy to see you!

There is much I want to tell to you.

If I not beautiful enough for you,

you should know that I been victim of bad circumstances,

bad men, bad parenting. If I...

Unexpectedly, after our five-day separation

I spoke perfect English.

Where perfection was punished,

tallness diminished, and blondness made bland.

The gold of you...

What happened?

You were my mute princess!

Now like Jesus walking on water, you can speak!

Love obliterates obstacles!

Love! Love!

Love generates miracles!

Love! Love!

Love is so full of power

It can teach a language in one hour!

Love!

But I have hope.

You will save me from myself.

You will fill me with your goodness

and I will never be bad ever again.

Falling in love with Bo rapidly increased the stress hormone cortisol

in Zelma’s blood stream and the secretion of a protein molecule

known as the Nerve Growth Factor.

The Nerve Growth Factor generates new neurons

and can rewire neural pathways.

It may help a person who has fallen in love with a foreigner

to adjust to a completely new environment

or, like in Zelma’s case, rouse dormant pathways

to a forgotten language learned in half sleep.

When I looked at my environment afresh through my gentle lover’s eyes

I saw with alarm that it was unsophisticated and dangerous.

Uhhh! Look at that!

You can’t tell which of them is a girl and which is a guy.

Hair is the same length.

Lesbians.

What are you looking at?

Haven’t you seen people kiss before?

Buzz off!

It’s a guy. With a girl. It’s okay.

Perverts.

We rented an apartment to keep our love undisturbed.

I knew my prayers had been answered.

I had finally met a good man who would take care of me.

You are the one.

Every moment we were apart was filled with agony.

Every reunion was celebrated as the ultimate glory.

You are the one.

We had sex before breakfast.

We had sex after breakfast.

We had sex soon after lunch

and we had sex before the separation of sleep.

In between we went sightseeing.

Um...

Zelma Liepa,

ah...

will you

marry me?

I was taken aback.

Was it normal in the West to propose so soon?

And what should I say?

Once I asked for time to think it over and it didn’t end well.

Then I said ’yes’ immediately and it still didn’t work.

I looked into his eyes and saw that my hesitation

was keeping him in painful suspense.

Love means: never be the cause of your lover’s suffering.

What if there was a cosmic necessity in our union?

The collapse of the Iron Curtain united the East and West of Europe.

Our marriage would be a union of East and West, too.

He could make me happy.

I would never have to suffer again.

Love is great, but marriage is greater than love.

He was the one.

Bo Larsson,

yes.

Haaaaah-aaaaah!!!

What I meant was -

"yes, I would marry you sometime in the future"...

Let’s go! What a great day to get married!

But I didn’t realize the future was the next day.

Today?

We have to be together.

I know this is right.

I - I didn’t tell you but my grandmother’s name was Zelma, too.

This is too meaningful: Zelma Larsson, a hundred years later.

It’s supernatural. It’s meant to be.

Please, hurry.

I didn’t know that he wanted me to change my name.

I was an artist.

My name was signed on too many drawings to give it up without a fight.

But I saw that Bo was on fire. His urgency was burning him.

I could not increase his pain by demands like "I am keeping my name".

Then I remembered that in my country it was not easy to marry a foreigner.

It would give me some time to think it over.

Because one of you is a foreign citizen,

you both have to pass a medical inspection at the hospital.

It normally takes three weeks to get all the test results and certificates.

This is ridiculous!

We don’t have time!

What’s the rush?

Three weeks is nothing compared to a lifetime of marriage.

How could a perfect man from a perfect land feel the same despair

that the miserable people of my land felt?

We have to marry before I turn back into a frog!

Come here.

What’s bothering you?

I couldn’t sleep.

Why couldn’t you sleep?

It’s a thing that all Swedes have -

we wake up at two in the morning and can’t stop thinking.

I had noticed something new and odd about Bo.

He was like a restless ocean under a cloudy sky

that for a long hour would be transparent, bright aqua green,

then for a flash turn black and opaque and strange.

Between his words there were startling pauses,

as if he had caught himself revealing too much.

What was it?

Give it a rest. You are with me now.

I’ll save you.

I am safe with you.

Do you have a secret?

Yes, I do have a dark secret.

Tell me.

If he had told me that he licked hairless cats for sexual pleasure

I would have accepted it.

Love is strange that way.

I don’t have a secret!

Where did you get that idea?

Umm... I -

Once we get married, I’ll be able to sleep again.

Marriage will solve all your problems,

However deep.

Marriage is good for your sleep.

You are the one. I know it. You can change everything.

You have the magic touch.

That’s why we love you so much.

I have been alone for too long.

You can make me into a less selfish person.

You can turn a frog into a prince.

There is a happy little house I have always dreamt about.

We will fill that house with our children.

It’ll be perfect.

A happy little house

Filled with a happy little spouse

And children so bright Will set everything right!

I want you to be happy.

Dear Bo, You have been approved for work in Canada.

Start immediately.

You have to come with me.

But the Canadian Embassy was suspicious of Eastern Europeans wanting to go there.

They would not let me in unless I was married to Bo,

who had a work permit.

So we went to Sweden.

Only in Sweden could people marry swiftly, without medical examinations.

Zelma, will you have this man to be your husband

to live together in the covenant of marriage?

Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him,

in sickness and in health,

and be faithful to him as long as you both shall live?

For as long as I live?

I... I will.

Bum, bum-bum, bum, bum, bum, bum

Bum, bum-bum, bum, bum, bum, bum

Bum, bum-bum, bum, bum, bum baaah-aaah-aaah-aaah

Inexplicably, just saying those two words exhausted me.

This was the Promised Land of Canada.

All my friends back home dreamt to be so wealthy

that they wouldn’t have to work or worry about money.

I was not allowed to work in Canada.

Not having work or worry was killing me.

Aaaaah...

Aaaaah...

Aaaaah...

Aaaaah...

It is written in sacred "Model Marriage" books

That a good wife sweeps, cleans and she cooks.

You are in bed from morning until night.

You are nothing but a lazy parasite.

Haaaaah-aaaaaah

Shame! Shame! Shame!

Shame! Shame! Shame!

OK! OK! I am getting up.

I could pinpoint my unhappiness to one source - my husband.

He had promised never-ending perfection and happiness.

But with every day we spent together he was less and less perfect

and I was less and less happy.

I had to change him

or this misery would swallow me.

Take your hand off your hip.

Uh... Why?

It’s the pose of a middle age woman. It doesn’t befit a man.

How was work today?

Same as usual. Not much going on.

He wouldn’t make a good spy.

This was the classical gesture of a liar.

What was he covering?

Don’t look at me like that.

Don’t cover your mouth when speaking to me.

I don’t like how you hold your fork.

What is it about how I hold my fork?

It reminds me of Marlene Dietrich smoking a cigarette.

There is nothing wrong with Marlene Dietrich.

She is beautiful.

She is dead. And she is a woman. Don’t do it.

It makes you look ugly and pretentious.

Could you please sit more like a man?

What... how should I sit?

Like this.

But somewhere in the middle of my project of changing Bo

I started to notice that Bo was trying to change me.

What’s for dinner?

I cooked stuffed eggplant.

Again?

Overcooked vegetables are so 18th century!

I can’t believe a woman can be so uneducated about nutrition!

That’s how we cook in my country.

Gross.

I want you to look pretty at my office party.

Put some make-up on.

Make-up? I don’t have any make-up!

To me wearing make-up was like wearing a plastic mask.

It made me self-conscious and uncomfortable.

A woman without make-up is like a rose without the morning dew!

In evenings our street would fill with women

who reminded me of the country I was from.

At the sight of the women Bo would tense up and become very focused.

It looked as if he was trying to communicate with them telepathically.

Am I not good enough for you?

What do you want from them?

Nothing. I'm just looking.

You are NOT just looking.

There can be an affinity between people without it being sexual.

Affinity with women? What do you know about being a woman?

In my country an affinity with women can only be earned

by having a period, getting pregnant, being abused or raped.

Anything other than that makes you a man without a clue.

What do YOU know about being a woman?

Anyone looking at you from a distance would mistake you for a man.

Your hair is too long.

It makes you look deranged.

I thought you liked my hair!

I did. When it had a golden glow.

Now it just looks greasy and thin.

You keep buying that cheap shampoo without conditioner.

Of course my hair is greasy now!

This is not the marriage I imagined.

I am not happy.

This was not the marriage I imagined.

I was not happy.

We can’t continue on like this.

It’s unbearable.

But I thought of a solution.

We can still be happy.

A solution?

Yes. Yes.

The problem is we both are very selfish.

We need to have something that is more than just us.

We should have a baby.

The baby would solve all our problems.

We would love the baby and through the baby

we would love each other again.

You can keep a lady

If you give her a baby!

Your man will never stray wild

If you give him a child!

My two marriages failed to make me happy.

Could a baby make me happy?

I had bet my life that marriage with Bo would make everything perfect.

And it didn’t turn out that way.

Now Bo was asking me to gamble my life on his dream of having a baby.

But it was just a dream.

I had seen babies and the tired despair in their mothers’ eyes.

Marriage was supposed to be easy.

But any fool knew that babies were hard work.

I don’t know if a baby is what I want.

What do you want?

A divorce.

I expected him to scream and hit me.

After all it was his right -

I was his wife and had promised to be with him until death do us part.

If this is what you want.

Do you know that old saying: if you love someone let them go?

No. I don’t know it.

Where I was from, you killed them before you let them go.

And there I was again - another failed marriage because I was not woman enough.

I’m coming to see you.

I have to show you something.

I had no idea.

In the Soviet Union non-normative behavior was punishable.

It was dangerous to be different.

And on the surface it seemed that no one was different.

All the non-normative behavior was was lumped into one pile

of bad behavior that could get you the death sentence.

Being gay or a pedophile or an exhibitionist was the same thing.

I had never heard of men wanting to dress in women’s clothing.

She is so strange.

She's deranged.

She's not a girl!

She fights!

But suddenly I saw that I was just like Bo -

in constant fear of being judged for something I couldn’t change.

Why didn’t you tell me?

Tell YOU?

You were so unforgiving.

And now?

I have nothing to lose.

No marriage can change me.

This is who I am

and I have to accept it.

Zelma doesn’t know how it feels for a man

to want to dress in women’s clothing,

but now she makes an effort to understand Bo

by using her own past experiences.

Zelma’s hypothalamus, always on the lookout for a threat,

recognizes that, although he is different,

Bo is not going to pose a threat

and sends a signal to the pituitary gland

to release a small dose of oxytocin,

just enough to feel the bond of shared experiences,

but not too much to feel the intoxication of love.

Sensing the presence of oxytocin,

several circuits of neurons release a small dose of dopamine

sending a signal to Zelma’s premotor cortex

that it is okay to extend her hand to someone whom just an an hour ago

she didn’t understand and regarded as The Other.

She is not a girl! She is not a girl!

She is not a girl! She is not a girl!

Mind your own business!

I love the way you are.

Zelma finally feels complete and at peace with herself.

I am ready for plan D.

Stop!

Do!

Do!

Take the note! Do!

Do!

One more time. Do!

Do!

Nice!

Mi!

Mi!

Good.

Sol!

Sol!

Excellent.

Now, all together!

Baaaah!

Great.

Now, remember to keep your heads cool about marriage.

We cool!

No pressure.

No pressure!

Perfect.

Let’s keep it that way.

The light finally breaks

And lets the butterflies out.

The sound of war recedes

My heart is ready for peace.

I feel so small before this daunting task

When Love takes off its confusing mask

I see what love could possibly be

if I had courage to break with conformity.

I’d refuse to engage in this timeless war

Of who will lose or who could win more

I’d put a stop to this time-worn song

Of how to Love and what’s right and what’s wrong.

I dance on the graves of my many mistakes

Their cold shiny stones they teach me new moves.

Tip top TIP tippity tup

I’m moving forward, I’m moving up.

Tip top TIP tippity tap

I’m moving forward with my new map.

Tip top TIP tippity tup

I’m moving forward, I’m moving up.

Tip top TAP tippity tip

I’m moving forward, going on a trip.

The World is too big to care for my plight

I search, I bargain, I plea, and I fight

to fit the world into a room with a view

and share it with someone

Could it be you?

I dance on the graves of my many mistakes

Their cold shiny stones they teach me new moves.

Tip top TIP tippity tup

I’m moving forward I’m moving up.

Tip top TIP tippity tap

I’m moving forward with my new map.

Tip top TIP tippity tup

I’m moving forward, I’m moving up.

Tip top TAP tippity tip

I’m moving forward, going on a trip.

Nah-nah

I'll be a Lion, I'll be a force

I'll let my voice out 'til it is hoarse

My spirit will join the chorus of others

we will be sisters, we will be brothers

In the song of parity

Love will be a thrill

On the shared ground

of a shared will.

I dance on the graves of my many mistakes

Their cold shiny stones teach me new moves.

Tip top TIP tippity tup

I’m moving forward, I’m moving up,

Tip top TIP tippity tap

I’m moving forward with my new map.

Tip top TIP tippity tup

I’m moving forward, I’m moving up.

Tip top TAP tippity tip

I’m moving forward, going on a trip.

I dance to a fresh tune

Known only by a few

Who else knows it?

Could it be...

You?