Celia the Boy

Celia is back from spending Thanksgiving with her family.

After she left last week, I wrote her a nice email. Nothing too effusive, but warm. No response, but I wasn’t expecting it, really—she was out of town, and anyway, I had already figured out that she’s a boy.

Girls call you to talk about nothing, just to hear the sound of your voice.

Boys forget to call. Boys need to be reminded to keep dates. Celia is much more in the “boy” category. So am I, but that’s fine. I can be a girl for her.

It may be perverse, but I am attracted to Celia’s inattentiveness. My life is filled with children and others who want my attention, who need me, who need me now. Since I started dating, I’ve met my share of people who want to take over my life as quickly as possible. It’s refreshing to have someone enjoy being with me, but who has a life of her own.

I spoke with Celia just now—on my dime, of course. It was a nice, easy chat. She fills any empty air time by humming, which is endearing. We caught up, talked about things we were working on, talked about last week.

I told her I was going out of town for a few days at the end of the week. She reminded me that she was going to be away from mid-December until mid-January. We both had crazy deadlines between now and the holidays.

I tried to sound nonchalant, not crestfallen. I took heart when she said it would be nice to spend more relaxed time together when she gets back. She will try to join us for the next gathering, coming late again due to her class.

If so, I will try not to follow her home.