Ghost

"And this ghost of your other lover walked in and stood there, made of thin air..." - Laurie Anderson, Gravity's Angel

I was asked the other day if I wanted a boyfriend, and I couldn't answer the question.

I also couldn't, because of who was doing the asking, tell the whole truth about things.

But when I thought about it later, I realized the strongest, deepest reason that I couldn't answer the question was that I don't know the answer.

And then, in a different conversation, I hear myself say that I'd wish myself a boyfriend into being, except that I don't want him (theoretical boy) getting all up in my face about everything. Because that's what boyfriends do, isn't it?

Not initially, of course. Initially they are too impressed with whatever it is that they've decided is impressive about you. But then, later, after they've gotten over thinking how lucky they are (which in most cases takes about two weeks or five minutes, depending on how soon you have sex with them), they start to have a big fat opinion about your every move, your every thought and decision and choice. As if you need their help making decisions about everything. As if you asked. Just as if you're a child with no will or brain of her own.

And mind you, as a child I had plenty of will and brain of my own. It's just that no one listens to children.

And men don't listen to women, by and large.

I have a voodoo doll which Miz Fury gave me for my fortieth birthday, and which was of some small use in getting over Boywich. I don't want to have to use it again. It's enjoying its tightly wound little nap, there in the corner of my desk.

Boywich, by the way, was the king of opinions about my every move and decision. And I didn't find it helpful in the least, though the opinion he shared with me this evening is one with which I thoroughly agree.

He said, and I quote, "Well, you know no one is ever going to be good enough for you in my eyes."

So much easier to love a married man, and put him up on the shelf next to the voodoo doll, isn't it? Neither gets anywhere near my skin.

"Nothing of him that doth fade, but that suffers a sea change into something rich and strange." - Laurie Anderson, Blue Lagoon.

PS. Methinks I will wish for a lover, instead.

PS2. I should in fairness add that Boywich does not do that sort of thing now. He's quite supportive and offers good advice when asked, just like a friend should. Which sort of proves my point that it's a phenomenon specific to romantic relationships.