H is for Harem

I know that this is irritating for you. I mention your harem and you bristle. This is how I refer to your adoring fans, the women who invite you to view art with them, and to eat, and who send you things in the post.

I would not even have included this post because I know how you will feel about it, that tired old argument dragged out and waved in front of you again. I feel you groan and shake your head. You have tired of me. The joke is old and was once, maybe, and only once, a funny moment. Now it is a whole string of moments that predict a pathology.

I want you to be loved because then you will be happy. I want you not to be loved because then I would have no competition for your affection. I want both of these things to exist in the world without conflict. It is an impossible desire, for you and I to be happy in these opposite ways. I don't know how to love someone else's boyfriend safely despite the fact that I am someone elses wife and steeped happily to my chin in that affection.