I do not need a husband, but a man-muse. He is able to break a woman's heart, betray, disappear, but he is an inspirer, a hero and a dream. The man is the muse.
The main question I've always asked about men was whether they like me. Still sometimes, in especially lyrical moments, I thought about what men think, what they want in addition to well-known things. One day I wondered if the man who sits next to me on the kitchen floor is happy and pours champagne into my teacup, and what I have to do with his happiness or lack of happiness. But I never, honestly, thought of any man as a possible husband. Even as a child, in dreams of a bright future, I thought that I would be a free aunt, I would go out late, maybe even with a man, I would wear silk dresses and high heels - and I would also have a dog at home, or maybe a cat - but certainly not a husband. In general, a man in the house has never been the limit of my dreams. Now that I can afford all these dresses and heels and long walks with men and even a dog and cat waiting for me at home, I'm still not ready to afford a husband.
When I hear from a friend that in order to be fulfilled as a woman, “you need to get married and have a baby,” I feel uneasy. I may not be realized then, sorry.
The only man I love is probably my friend. Well, sometimes a lover. But this friendship - love will never turn into a desire to become a sweet wife.
I would not have thought about marriage or anything like that if I had not been asked about my personal life. And it would be nice to ask. I am convinced that I just need to get a life partner. And when I answer: no, thank you, not now, not today, perhaps never, they look at me with such sincere sympathy that I feel ashamed.
And I begin to joke inappropriately, because the topic is, after all, very serious. It's about my future... No, not my husband. Just about my future. I lower my eyelashes and say that choosing a husband is a very responsible matter. And I don't trust myself. I don’t know how to choose men correctly, I have such a problem. I immediately promise to pick up a good guy. Kind, hard-working, familiar acquaintances. I immediately feel sorry for this guy, and myself even more. I want to hide somewhere - in the nearest bush, under the table, jump into a passing car and run to the ends of the world.
How can I explain that I need not a husband, but a man-muse. Mastermind. Hero. Dream.
It may be necessary for me to be constantly in a state of mild insanity. I want to think about him and whisper "my music" and not "my husband." And the beauty of the "muse" is that it is not chosen. That meeting with him is not the goal, because it can be disastrous. Muses is able to break a heart, betray, disappear. But at the same time, the magic of those moments when you got drunk from one of his touches will remain forever.
I once had such an unfortunate love for a male muse. He didn't love me, but that's not the main thing. But how many deep thoughts I had then: about life, about love, about men and about myself. In the dark evenings, I went to pick daisies, and then I could sit on a bench for a long, long time, count the stars and not wait for his call, because it was not he who called me, but I told him. I then knew how to confess my love without words and kisses, just sitting next to him on a bench in Lefortovo Park. And when I looked at him, my eyes stung, from happiness, probably. He soon left me. Music comes and goes. But it’s more pleasant for me to remember him than about a potential husband who accompanied me to the entrance and invited me to drink tea with my parents. Because the music inspired me to exploits, and a possible husband made me think about a two-room apartment on the outskirts, about salaries and the family budget, about cutlets and men's socks. And I got scared. In general, I am afraid of possibilities much more than impossibilities.
Therefore, I sit with pleasure at night alone on my native carpet, drink white wine and remember my muse.
How I got up on my toes and reached out to kiss him goodbye - and it seemed that I was either flying or falling - how I forced myself not to turn around and not look after him.
And now, looking back after the time when I had this unhappy love, I perfectly understand how happy I was.