I was the doll you kept in a box.
Nicky Alcenat
Like most boys that played with things they shouldn’t you kept me hidden because good boys, the right kind of boys, didn’t play with dolls. I was a comfort to you. I was a pseudo companion that you whispered secrets to but only behind closed doors and during late nights. You’d sneak away to play with me, dressing and undressing me to your caprice. Like something out of a child’s story, I came to life when you weren’t around. I was autonomous and ran around with the other dolls, only when you weren’t handling me. You loved to take me on any adventures your imagination could think up. We’d ride to beaches, and theme parks, and fancy restaurants. I was the perfect companion; I answered every time I was spoken to like you were pulling a string on my back and I laughed in perfect timing to your jokes, always at the right volume. You coveted me. Like a first grader stealing his sister’s Barbie to take to school and show the other boys her anatomy (or lack thereof), you loved when other men looked at me. It could have been out of curiosity or envy, the reasons they looked at me with you, but it gave you a haughtiness all the same. I was shiny and new and exciting and something you didn’t want to be caught with, not by anyone that would condemn your choices of comfort. I was your favorite plaything until you got bored and put me back in my dream house for the last time. Pushed to the side in favor of real-world practicalities. You’d grow up and realize that you couldn’t live in a fantasy world forever. You’d have to find ways to spend your time more appropriately the way other men did. It brought blood to your cheeks and made heat rise under your collar to think about the toy girl. You tried to push the memory down, to crystallize it in a moment in your memory and then shove it into an unlighted corner. You’d remember it in your old age when you had nothing to prove anymore and no one to fear. You’ll smile to yourself and remember the doll you secretly played with when no one was looking.
Nicky is a writer living and loving in Brooklyn, NY. She writes about relationships, style, and gender.