My boyfriend is away. Did I say I had a boyfriend? How very unusual for me to admit to such a thing! I never have 'boyfriends,' I only have connections that may or may not be called relationships, and yet towards whom I remain utterly faithful until he abandons me. Or I him. It always happens. And things somehow continue to continue after a respite too. I don't think I live in a world of normal intimate relationships, whatever those may be. To say, I have a 'boyfriend,' balks on my tongue. It feels like ownership. Like settling into someone else's definition. Like something people can make judgments about. Like an incredibly weird sort of dalliance of sex and fun with a little angst thrown in that is so strange that I'd almost rather not. So I make mysterious references to whatever might or might not be going on in my life at any given time. Men I love, and who love me. Yes, always that. Honoured. Of course. Treated with respect, kindness, generosity. Always. But never with full openness. There are secrets. Things that are hidden. Other relationships, other heartbreaks behind the facade of our dalliance. There is a hint that we might possibly make it to some semblance of a kind of connection I might mention to my children to warn them. I never bring my men home, though. Even with delicious sensualities, things usually never get that far. Though I never lose them either. We somehow all continue on together, closer in some ways, more tenuous in others. We never fully lose touch. Mostly it all exists in some fantasy arena, and afterall I do have a penchant for brilliant, independent, single men. The love life of a middle-aged creative woman is far more complex than it looks on the surface.
Class this under humour. Really I am only talking about a very few men spread over years... :giggles: