Occasionally I find myself missing the simpler days of youth. There were boys, usually my friends older brothers, who I had massive crushes on but never said more than three words to. They were centaur-like. Beautiful, mythical creatures that would appear making those brief moments in your day all the more beautiful and mythical before disappearing off, mysteriously going about their lives. The lovely thing about knowing virtually nothing about someone is that they then can remain, in your eyes, perfect.
You know that when you don’t see them they are probably volunteering with excluded young people, expertly playing the harmonica, never having bad breath, cooking delicious and authentic mexican, getting up so an old person can have their seat on the tube … you get my drift. The problem is, the more interaction you have with these Centaurs the less beautiful and mythical they are and the fall from ‘Centaur’ to ‘just a guy’ is a bit of a shock.
As far as interaction goes I think first name basis is ok. However, surnames are a no go, then it means that facebook stalking can commence and that leaves you with no mystery.
Avoid talking about your ‘Centaur’. (This is a mistake that I commonly make.) The more you talk about them, the more information you accidentally stumble upon. It’s a sad day when you hear that your ‘Centaur’ is an arse or might actually be gay, rather than the harmonica playing philanthropist you thought about so fondly.
Anyway, here’s to centaurs, less complicated day brighteners.
Happy Hump Day.
p.s. the centaur illustration is by Arthur D Lemon. You can’t beat a centaur frollicking in a field eh?