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Damnit, I want a concubine

August 24, 2010

Concubine: the missing category for the modern independent woman

Maybe they never existed – at least not for women. Though actually I rather think they did – Greeks? Romans? Assyrians? They knew how to party as much as to murder. Including the women. I think. Well, having done a quick Google, not the Greeks. Non-goddess women had squat.

Obviously Greek men always had a little playboy, though. And in Japan, geishas (for men) have been de rigeur forever.

But as far as I know, male concubines for upwardly mobile pre-middle aged Western women have not yet become, or have ever been, the mainstream. These days we have so many categories for our lovers: playboys, boytoys, sugar daddies, fuckbuddies, boyfriends, husbands, future husbands, flings, affairs, exes, embarassments…. But no concubine, no category that permits the woman to be the master (vs mistress) as it were, or the sugar mama (I’m not after, nor talking about, S&M power plays thank you). But I’m talking about a situation where yes, the woman is in charge, and she comes and goes as she pleases and lavishes her affection on her cute and adorable conquest/friend/ex in the form of treats and gifts he might not be able to afford – rather than in the soul-strangling strictures of a relationship.

Well, I’ve long felt that there is a gap in the market. Since January, to be precise, when my relationship with a totally sweet and adorable guy finally heaved its death groan. I never stopped finding him completely cheek-pinchingly adorable (pumpkin-like, almost, but in a good way) and also extremely sexy, but our compatibility was low and its prospects were dreadful. So it ended. Then, since exes are meant to go cold turkey if they know what’s best for them, and not get carried away with the breakup sex phase, that’s what we did, neither of us wanting to get more hurt. And, since there was and is zero prospect of us getting back together, I have resisted every single urge to call him up drunk and lonely and horny and demand a meeting (and there have been many such urges). The only reason I’ve resisted is because all my friends tell me it’s a very bad idea. And also because he might then see it as me wanting to get back together. And because I don’t want to traumatise him or be rejected myself.

Still, something feels unsatisfactory– like there’s a missing category in which he should exist. I don’t want to go out with him again. But I do want to sleep with him again – the familiarity, the cuddles, the guarantee. More interestingly, I want to give him lots of treats. That was one of my favourite parts of the relationship: present time. I loved making him his favourite drink, and tracking down something he’d casually mentioned he loved for his birthday.

But a future husband? No. therefore: why can’t he be my concubine? I could keep him in a gilded cage (well, I’d leave it open), spoil him, enjoy him, cherish him, and have my way with him when I wanted. He could also do what he wanted.

Ok ok. That isn’t going to be possible. People tell me it’s not workable with ex boyfriends. He would not be up for it and when push comes to shove, I probably wouldn’t be, either.

But the idea is a good one. Can I have another concubine, perhaps? And who would he be? He would have to be lower on the foodscale in some way: (MUCH younger); simply gorgeous but poor as hell; or a struggling but industrious immigrant. But, unlike men and their playgirls, that they are good looking and weaker than me is not criteria enough. They have to have something splendid to offer: a gorgeous way with words, a Zen demeanor coupled with a voracious sex drive, otherworldly beauty plus a disregard for material possessions (unless they come from me), a sweet temperament. Such men don’t fit into your lifestyle, perhaps (eg youngter, hippie etc), and therefore are not reasonable prospects for a relationship. This is the perfect arrangement. Clearly, it’s not just about sex – since you could probably get them in the sack without promising to reward them materially. What it’s about is the gift lavishing, the thrill of spoiling a cute thing, the  sense of improvement and development, perhaps of moulding them into a really top grade stick of dynamite (one could hold forth – conduct lectures on morality or music).

Women have all kinds of status symbols and power accessories, from designer suits to cars to head-sized rocks. Well, the ultimate one would surely be our very own concubine: well-behaved, clever, and at our service.

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3 Comments leave one →
  1. Eleanor permalink
    August 24, 2010 7:10 pm

    Shameless… I love it. But does he read these?? Either way, I’m sure he’d appreciate. Whatever, you GO, girl!!

  2. August 25, 2010 6:20 am

    Where are these “upwardly mobile” women moving forwards 😉 I wish I was an upwardly mobile man instead of the reality gravity has on me. Perhaps you are meaning career in which case your bank balance may be upwardly mobile and inside limited circles you have more respect.

  3. August 25, 2010 6:25 am

    I missed the point of the piece largely with my last comment. And its a great article. I have to admit to recently trying to engineer a relationship where we can just both enjoy each others company without labelling it. It wasn’t fuckbuddies, and for me I haven’t been able to find one of those as I think they could be handy. Mostly because I have been in proper serious relationships and there is the other problem seriousness too quickly when your bloody clocks ticking and therefore so is ours in a way. But I’m loving the idea that there needs to be some evolution or devolution back to a different time when we view the male female relationships differently.

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