Consequences #14 — Gert

You do what you’re used to. Is it out of fear or out of con­tent­ment? I don’t know.

In my teens and twen­ties, I did not have many boy­friends. It wasn’t that I didn’t want a boy­friend, it just rarely happened. Most of the time, it wasn’t a prob­lem. Indeed, I found it an advant­age. I could do what I wanted, when I wanted. No one invaded my pri­vacy and I could sleep soundly through the night. (Or I could stay up all night and sleep through the day).

Bank Hol­i­days were the prob­lem. Noth­ing drags like a Bank Hol­i­day without a boy­friend. Espe­cially when the sun is shin­ing. You ring up your friends, one by one, and ask them if they ‘fancy doing some­thing’ on Bank Hol­i­day. One by one they say “I’m going with my boyfriend/girlfriend to …”

Every Bank Hol­i­day Monday I would go to the super­mar­ket and watch couples shop­ping. That hurt. I wanted to be half of a couple. I wanted to hold hands by the cheese counter and giggle over the soft drinks. I would return home, and cook a loser’s meal-for-one. I went for a walk on a com­mon or in a park. They were every­where — in pubs, on the park bench, in those pave­ment cafés that bizar­rely appear espe­cially at Bank Hol­i­days, so that they can flaunt their coupledom.

Lonely, I would return home and wal­low in a book, or in writ­ing, or in surf­ing the net. I couldn’t under­stand it. I was fairly attract­ive. I had no short­age of friends, male and female. I bath or shower at least once daily. Why couldn’t I have a boy­friend? Just a Bank Hol­i­day boyfriend.

The Bank Hol­i­day would end and I returned to work, back to routine life. A col­league moaned about her part­ner. Smugly, I knew this was not for me. I looked for­ward to the week­end, when I was under no pres­sure to ‘go out’ on Sat­urday night. I could sit indoors, play­ing my music loud and surf­ing the net, get­ting drunk on a good red.

Now I’m older and I have a boy­friend. I love him very much. He doesn’t under­stand com­puters and has no desire to surf the net. Unusu­ally, we have spent all week­end together, because it’s the Bank Hol­i­day. Nor­mally we part at five on a Sunday and go to our sep­ar­ate homes. I surf the net, blog and blog-read. Last night, I was itch­ing to go on the com­puter. He didn’t stop me, but was it really fair to spend two hours star­ing at this screen when we rarely have a Sunday even­ing together?

This morn­ing, he has popped out to do some shop­ping for his café. For an hour or so, I am alone. I am glee­ful, happy for that hour, because I am boy­friend­less on a Bank Hol­i­day. I am doing what I am used to — using a Bank Hol­i­day to play with words. I am look­ing for­ward to my boy­friend return­ing, but enjoy­ing the solitude. I love what words can do. I love to read and I must write. Words are like friends to me.