He Was Doing an Excellent Impression of a Boyfriend

The trouble with a counterfeit relationship is that it rarely has the courtesy to look counterfeit.

At first, he looks remarkably like a boyfriend.

He calls when he says he will, remembers the little thing you mentioned three conversations ago, knows how you take your coffee and sends the sort of message that makes an ordinary morning feel unexpectedly prettier. He reaches for your hand, listens when something has gone wrong and generally behaves like a man who has read the boyfriend handbook and highlighted the useful chapters.

Naturally, you assume you are in a relationship.

Why wouldn’t you? The man has brought most of the props.

Sir is wonderfully comfortable with the enjoyable parts: affection, sex, companionship, weekends away, quiet evenings and somebody who remembers his birthday without requiring three reminders and a calendar alert.

What seems rather less appealing is actually occupying the position he is enjoying so much.

Which is where the whole thing begins to resemble one of those beautiful house fronts built for a movie set—the kind designed to look perfectly real from the street even though there is no actual house behind them.

From the street, it is gorgeous.

The camera loves it.

The Front Is Absolutely Lovely

Warm windows, flowers near the steps, a charming little porch. Nothing about it says careful, this ends twelve inches behind the front door.

Quite the opposite. It has been built specifically to make you assume there is more.

Your relationship has much the same polish. He leaves a toothbrush at your place, sends good morning messages, knows your friends’ names and has opinions about the restaurant you both like. There are photographs, private jokes, weekends away, maybe even a future mentioned casually enough to sound wonderfully natural.

Sir is excellent with surface detail.

After all, when a man has installed the windows, planted the flowers and put his toothbrush beside yours, one does tend to assume there might be a kitchen somewhere.

The porch is delightful.

One naturally assumes there are rooms.

Then You Try to Open a Door

You ask where this is going, and suddenly one of the doors becomes strangely reluctant to behave like a door.

He likes what you have. Why complicate it?

Interesting.

So you ask whether you are exclusive.

Another door.

This one appears to have been painted directly onto the wall.

Now a man who remembers your exact coffee order is struggling heroically with the meaning of exclusive. Labels feel restrictive. He needs time. Why spoil something lovely by naming it?

Well.

That is curious, because Sir has been enjoying quite a collection of boyfriend privileges for a gentleman who has become unexpectedly philosophical about the word.

He can disappear for two days and return wonderfully affectionate, plan a romantic weekend while quietly keeping another woman outside the camera frame, then become light as chiffon the moment anything solid is required.

From the street, we still have a relationship.

From the side, things are becoming unexpectedly thin.

So you keep walking.

There should be a kitchen around here somewhere.

Maybe a bedroom.

Possibly a wall.

Goodness.

Madam Has Walked Around the Back

Eventually, you reach the part nobody expected you to inspect.

And from back here, things look rather peculiar: the windows do not open, the charming front door seems to lead nowhere useful, and that lovely upstairs window has never seen a bedroom in its life.

And once you are around the back, another little detail may wander into view — another woman.

Oh dear. Sir has been filming two romances on the same lot.

The truly lovely part is that he may seem offended when you point out that something is missing. What do you mean? Look at the flowers! What about that beautiful weekend??

Well, nobody is criticizing the porch. The porch is excellent. The problem is that you cannot live in a porch.

The flowers were real, and the kisses may have been real too. Some of the feelings may even have been real.

But eventually you walked around the back and discovered what the beautiful front had been hiding: there was no house there at all—just open air and sky.