A good man has a tough exterior and a heart of gold. A great man has a body sculpted out of chicken wire and covered in old paste-soaked newspapers. That’s right, folks, I’m talkin’ paper mache.
I met my first husband, Clarke while studying abroad in Paris. Clarke was striking, tall, dark, and handsome. He had a successful financial firm back home in New York, so when my semester was up, I joined him on the Upper East Side. What followed was a whirlwind romance filled with the blissful ignorance of youth. We were married after just two months of dating, and were divorced just two months after that. It turned out the man I met at the Moulin Rouge while drunk on absinthe was not the man I married. Sure, our uncoupling was painful, expensive, and required by law, but it was also a massive learning experience. I exited the relationship with a much stronger idea of what I wanted in a partner, and I set out to find my true perfect paper mache mate.
I had some reclaimed chicken wire left over from our urban coop. It was the perfect material with which to sculpt my perfect man. Over the course of a few weeks, I invited past lovers over to take measurements, so I could have the appropriate dimensions for a man who would bring me comfort. I ended up with a form that was about 6’2” and completely transparent. Perfect!
I was very particular about the papers I used. Call me superstitious, but I stuck with the New York Times and did not use any pages containing ads, opinion columns, or sports recaps. My man was going to be all knowledge (and some comics). We were going to get along swimmingly.
Once I had the frame completely covered I set it out on my balcony to dry. It took about a week for it to harden completely (the only thing about him that reminded me of Clarke). I got a couple calls from concerned neighbors, which I guess is to be expected when you have what is essentially a 6-foot tall man-piñata laid out fifty stories up, but once I explained my circumstances, they were very understanding. We even got a few art gallery invites, but that’s something I wanted to wait on until we could discuss it as a couple.
It’s only been a few weeks since my paper mache man’s completion, but I can already tell I made the right choice. We’ve yet to argue, he doesn’t touch my food, and he doesn’t like to go out in the rain either. While I know his biodegradation is inevitable (isn’t all of ours?) I’m determined to make the most of the time we have together. And in case you were wondering he does have a name. It’s Clark. Without and e.
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Completion, love, genital pain ... Second guessing