‘I’m lonely,’ said my friend. Tears were running down her cheeks. Her mouth was too low in her face. 'I want a man.’ 'You could have one,’ I said. 'I don’t want just any man,’ said my friend. 'And I don’t want a boy. I want a man who’s not going to think my ideas are crazy. I want a man who’ll see the part of me that no-one ever sees. I want a man who’ll look after me and love me. I want a grown up.’ I thought, If I could play better, I could turn what she has just said into a song. 'Women like us,’ I said to my friend, 'don’t have men like that. Why should you expect to find a man like that?’ 'Why shouldn’t I?’ said my friend. 'Because men won’t do those things for women like us. We’ve done something to ourselves so that men won’t do it. Well - there are men who will. But we despise them.’ My friend stopped crying. I played the ukelele. My friend drank from the cup.
Helen Garner, The Life of Art (via thelastwildeking)
