Free The Mere Future by Sarah Schulman Page A

This is what happens, Claire noted with objective horror, to people who live advertising, i.e., all people . They had thoughts that sounded meaningful, but weren’t. Minds were changing, getting smaller. Including hers.
    Maybe it was all subconsciously because of Harrison’s title about his sperm, or maybe his sperm was just another reflection of the preexisting trend. Excitement about using references to men’s genitals had overtaken the country. Everyone metaphored someone else’s cock. It was like saying “okay” or “whatever.” A habit.
    Claire’s ex-best friend, Ginette, whom she now demonized, had once told her:
    “You need to be fucked by a tree.”
    This could be interpreted as prophetic, since they were now both taking turns sitting on the engorged penis of the same very tall Harrison Bond. But also, Ginette had not intended that statement as an erotic prediction, but rather meant to imply she thought that Claire was a major cunt. It was a put-down. Something about a woman’s vagina being large around meant something demeaning about her character and soul.
    Now, remembering that bitch Ginette, Claire had a new take on the meaning of her thought, I go through men like telephone poles.
    She and Ginette had once driven down a country road decorated by former trees that were now working for the phone company. This was when they were friends and were on their way to have Christmas with Ginette’s parents in an exotic part of West Virginia. They kept passing the poles, passing the poles, which all looked just the same. That’s what Claire felt about men. They were wildly different individuals, but her feelings of doom were interchangeable. While memories of Ginette remained uniquely painful.
    Whew! Relief!
    She had realized something about herself that wasn’t about a product.
    There was still some content to her interior life. Where would that lead? She had to choose between Harrison, who was himself choosing, and Jeff, who ignored her completely.
    How to decide?
    Harrison Bond was a big old brute. Of that, Claire was sure. He always hinted at a desire to fuck her in the ass, not softly and carefully, as they had done a couple of times already. But rather, with a lot more force. He wanted to tear her insides to shreds.
    “I want to tear your insides to shreds,” he’d panted.
    Fortunately, his penis was just too big for that much action, so she had plenty of reason to deflect his rectal rage.
    He cried a lot, that Harrison. He was so sad. Sometimes when Claire was dreaming about her true love, Jeff, she would happen to have a psychic glance at Harrison and see his despair. His big secret was that he could not feel cool about himself, and he told her so. Many times. It was fun, that kind of intimacy. They both loved every second of it. The had each, in the past, yearned for this and thrown it away. Now they both had the same chance for redemption. Claire would rub Harrison’s belly and he would confess his self-loathing. Trying, trying to reach out and connect. He did not know that she secretly loved Jeff. He’d never heard of Jeff. He thought that this distance between him and Claire was natural, and it made him feel safe. He had no idea that she was really dreaming of another man.
    In these moments Harrison assessed, mistakenly, that he could probably find another woman any time he wanted to, but that if Claire ever got sick of his weird ways, she would probably be alone.
    Sometimes Claire was so upset about Jeff that she tore out her eyebrows. The last time she did this they did not grow back, and she had to get permanent makeup tattooed over her eyes. Harrison never noticed.
    Jeff is a kook, true, she thought lovingly. But maybe, just maybe, he will help me learn something about myself that would equal the kind of peace I felt when he’d rubbed my back.
    Every single boyfriend she’d ever had, had come to a time when he no longer wanted to rub her back. He was too tired. It was the sign. Of