The uncritical lover forgets to zip up his jeans in the morning and loses his wallet on the subway. He smells because his cat eats his deodorant. All is well because he is finally in her kitchen, and she is handing him the yellow paint, saying cover it all. He is not sure if likes the color yellow, but she wants her kitchen yellow, and so this must bring him joy. She brings him joy, and he brings her blueberry scones. They eat blueberry scones together every day because he is sure she cannot digest anything else. (She can actually digest anything else). The uncritical lover is named Alexander, but he really wants to be called “babe.” He is in love the way first graders are in love with their buggers. When she sings, he sings along with her, although she only knows Simon and Garfunkel and he really only likes Metallica. When she sings everything is as quaint as the yellow kitchen. On holidays, he buys her chocolates with pistachios because they are her favorite. (But he is very allergic to pistachios so they cannot kiss on holidays. This is OK). His friends want to know whether she is a Democrat or a Republican. His mother is convinced she is a Commie. He does not bother answering these questions because they do not understand that she is so much more than a political viewpoint. Also he likes to kiss her. In the kitchen, he covers all four walls with I LOVE YOU from black sharpie markers before painting everything yellow.
The scholarly lover meets her on a yoga retreat in Upstate New York. She is the first girl he has kissed because he has really only kissed boys before. When he updates his blog, he finds himself writing about her down-dog. She has a really nice down-dog, and a really nice up-dog, and a really nice cow pose and cat pose and bridge pose, and her sweat drips nicer than anybody else’s sweat in the room. He likes her hands. The scholarly lover does not understand why the instructor makes her move her toes together for crane pose. He thinks her toes should stay where they are because her toes are so beautiful. In medical school he learned the alignment of perfect feet. He likes her soles. When she tells him of her anxiety disorder he likes her soul. There is nothing more amazing than watching her press both forearms into the mat. He sits in the back of the class to watch her. Last night he got in a really bad virtual argument with another yogi who viewed her balance as “lacking.” The scholarly lover does not view her as lacking in anything in any way, and so he blocks the opposition on all social media.
The critical lover has taken note of her lack of environmentally friendly policies. He thinks she should start recycling her diet coke cans. He also thinks she should stop drinking diet coke which he views as costly and compulsive. The critical lover wishes she would stop traveling so much, and he wishes she would stop drinking espresso at night, and he wishes that she would kiss him three hundred times a day because sometimes he does not know if he should stop kissing her. The critical lover does not understand why she prefers daisies over roses. When she tells the critical lover that she has an addictive habit that she is trying to break, he makes her drink a glass of water with every can of pop. The critical lover realizes that there is so much more than recycling when you love someone. The critical lover learns how wonderful it is to feel impressed. The critical lover starts drinking espresso at night because the small joys of coffee beans should be treasured just as much as cheekbones. The critical lover asks questions then learns to eskimo kiss. When she leaves for San Francisco, he sends her a flower crown of daisies. Like the song, he says, be sure to wear some flowers in your hair. She smiles and makes no promises. He loves her like this.
The friend of the lover is afraid of coming out because that would require a lot more confrontation than the friendship stance. The friend of the lover is in love with the lover and the beloved, and sometimes she dreams of eating tiramisu in bed with them. She has never been in love, but she understands the love between the lover and his beloved so well that she instinctually feels honored to hold this understanding. Sometimes sympathy becomes empathy. Sometimes she finds herself calling them both to hear how the sex was. Sometimes she bakes them brownies only to save a third of the batter for herself. One day she will confess that this love is the most important thing she has ever felt, but then she will take it back for fear of being something she cannot possibly be (which is involved). Her favorite day is Sunday night when the lover asks her to edit the letters he has written his beloved. Lately, she has had to resist the urge to sign her name at the bottom of the paper. As long as she does not sign her name at the bottom of the paper, everything is fine. The friend of the lover counts the days until the next month’s horoscopes comes out so that maybe then she will be able to do something about this love.
The voyeur likes to watch their dinner dates. This provides him with a solid excuse to order more key lime pie and also learn some things. (He keeps his elbows off the table; she chews only on the right side. He goes to the bathroom at least once during each dinner; she never goes to the bathroom, ever, and probably does not have a bladder). He does not like to watch their dinner dates because he finds either of them amusing; rather he is interested in committing to this research. He doubts that their love is valid. He also doubts that the bodily forms eating brussels-sprouts are valid. (According to his latest theory, she has extensions, and hence the whole basis of her being must be reexamined). The voyeur is banned from all four of the town diners now because he is so intent on his scientific observations that he will sometimes forget to pay the bill.
The polemicist is in love with his teacher’s pet snake. His teacher is in love with the new school counselor, but the polemicist does not think the new counselor is as hot as the amphibian. At the beginning, it was OK to be in love with Fran (the snake) because Fran would shed and everybody in the classroom would fawn over her. But after a while, everybody began to fawn over Miss. Loraine because Miss. Loraine could solve their problems during lunch time, and at this point, the polemicist is mad at everybody who is in love with Loraine. There is nothing beautiful about Loraine, he says. Did you see the lump in Fran’s chest from her lunch time rat? Can Loraine move her body like Fran? Loraine won’t shed her clothes for us because she doesn’t trust us. Fran trusts us. Fran is wonderful. The polemicist hears a rumor that Miss. Loraine used to work at a mental asylum, and so the polemicist spreads the rumor that Miss. Loraine was admitted to a mental asylum. The polemicist notes that Fran sits nicely in her cage.
Explanation/Response to Artwork:
I wrote this prose entry on “The Lovers” in response to Farid Essack’s The Qu’ran: A User Guide. I was really moved by the concept of different types of lovers and especially the notion that each one of these lovers encapsulates a human. I chose to write a prose piece in response to this where I gave the lovers quirky human characteristics. I felt that it was very important to not focus so much on the sexual aspect of a relationship but on the emotional and psychological roles that a lover can play when the beloved is not as active. This was strange: the lover being active, the beloved remaining inactive in each scenario. In reality, that is not the way love works, but with reading the Q’uran, I think that is the only physical option. This creates an interesting power dynamic because the Q’uran cannot get up and leave the relationship. She cannot say “You are reading me wrong. This is not the way I want you to look at me.” Ultimately, though the Q’uran has a voice, she also has no voice at all. So it is up to the reader and the lover to make his beloved or the Q’uran active in a way that is worthy and honorable. Most of all, I really enjoyed creating this because I began to wonder what kind of lover I am. Though I am not religious, I feel that each person who wants to be open to religion is a lover in his/her own way, and thus it was while writing this that I realized I am also a lover.