He Doesn’t Want a Relationship, but He Would Like to Keep the Cabana

A man can become wonderfully comfortable inside a relationship he insists he is not actually having.

You know the type. He likes you very much, enjoys seeing you, wants to know what you are doing, loves hearing about your day and slips quite happily into all those soft little privileges that usually belong to a boyfriend. Everything feels perfectly natural until somebody reaches for the word relationship, at which point he develops a sudden affection for keeping things beautifully undefined.

And this is how you can begin to feel as though you have invited a man into your favorite seaside beach club, where he has somehow settled into every pleasure of membership while remaining deeply opposed to becoming a member.

Naturally, it does not begin with a striped cabana and a standing lunch order. That would make things much too easy.

At first, you simply save him the chaise beside yours because he is coming by later and it seems silly to let somebody else take it.

Nothing serious.

Just a chair.

Somehow He Has a Usual Chair Now

Then he starts spending rather a lot of time beside you.

The cabana is cool and lovely, lunch appears on pale china, and before long somebody is placing a glass of sparkling water exactly where he likes it. He knows which chaise gets the best afternoon shade and has developed a preference for the little table near the edge because there is more room for his sunglasses.

All very casual, naturally.

You are simply enjoying each other.

Still, somewhere along the way the staff stops asking what he would like to drink because they already know. His towel appears beside yours. His book lands on the table. One afternoon he may even look mildly inconvenienced because somebody has moved the chair he likes.

Goodness. Standards have slipped.

And because you like having him there, you make room almost without noticing. You save his place, include him in your plans and give him the affection, loyalty and familiar warmth that have quietly become part of the afternoon.

He seems delighted, which is hardly surprising. The sea is beautiful, lunch is excellent, and the woman he likes has already made sure there is a chair waiting for him.

Sir is having a marvelous summer.

Membership, However, Feels a Little Serious

Eventually, you make the tiny mistake of wondering what all this actually is.

Nothing excessive. You are not requesting a brass plaque above the cabana or asking somebody to embroider his initials onto the towels. You would simply like to know whether the man who has spent half the summer beside you considers himself part of the club.

And suddenly he becomes philosophical.

Why label something that is already going so well? Why put pressure on it? Isn’t the important thing how the two of you feel when you are together?

Very thoughtful.

Meanwhile, his towel is still drying beside yours.

And this is where the whole beach club becomes especially entertaining, because he does not want to leave. Goodness, no. He loves it here.

He would simply prefer to keep the chaise, the lunches, the affection, the familiar little rituals and the comfortable certainty that his place beside you will probably still be there tomorrow, without anybody becoming reckless with terminology.

Sir Has Everything Except the Membership Card

By now, calling him a visitor would be rather generous.

There is sunscreen in the cabana that he uses without asking. His sunglasses have a regular spot. Somebody has started bringing an extra glass when they see you arrive alone because everyone knows he will probably appear eventually.

And, naturally, he does.

He wanders in, kisses you hello, settles into the chair beside yours and looks entirely at home, which makes the one missing detail increasingly funny.

Commitment.

He likes the closeness, the private jokes, the affection, the familiar place beside you and the lovely ease of not having to start from scratch with somebody new. In fact, he seems extremely fond of almost everything a relationship provides.

It is only the part where he clearly says, Yes, this is what I have chosen, that suddenly feels terribly formal.

So the summer rolls on. You keep sharing the cabana, he keeps enjoying everything about it, and whenever commitment wanders into the conversation, Sir develops a fascinating new interest in the horizon.

By now, the only thing he has declined is the membership card.

Everything else seems to suit him beautifully.

And really, that is the joke.

He never wanted membership. He simply wanted the five-star privileges of a boyfriend without the small inconvenience of actually becoming one.