The last time I saw my girlfriend she was lying in bed, waiting for her real, more interesting life to begin. A life without me it transpired, though I didn’t know that at the time.
‘You not getting up?’ I asked her.
‘Nah, I’m going to stay here. See what happens. The future starts here I reckon.’
‘Isn’t that a little…passive?’ I asked her. ‘Don’t you have to go looking for a fresh start?’
‘You have seen my legs right? And you have felt them wrapped around you? With these legs, something’s bound to happen in my life. It’s really only a matter of time.’
I tried explaining to her that she was colluding with the patriarchal and potentially misogynistic objectification of her body parts. But she didn’t seem to be listening. ‘There is so, so much more to you than your beautiful legs’ I concluded.
‘You’re so right. Just look at these two puppies,’ she said, lifting up her t-shirt.
I have to admit that I’d always found them profoundly persuasive: I simply couldn’t argue with their compelling logic, their age-old wisdom. ‘You make a strong case,’ I admitted.
‘I know, right? There are other things I could show you if you need any further convincing.’
‘It’s fine,’ I said. ‘You’ve made your point.’
‘Besides, I’ve already made arrangements to get me some new friends,’ she said. ‘And they are all extremely talented and very funny.’
‘I’ll leave you to it then?’ I asked her, reaching down for my jeans.
‘You do that,’ she said, rolling away from me one last time towards whatever it was she was hoping for.