I Don’t Wear Makeup For Men, I Wear Makeup For The Ghost of The Confederate Soldier Who Haunts My Apartment
I’m not like other girls. I don’t wear makeup for men, I wear makeup for the ghost of the Confederate soldier who haunts my apartment. I know what you’re thinking: a confederate soldier? Well, it’s hard meeting men these days. I’ve had girlfriends ask me why I spend so much time getting myself together everyday, even on days when I don’t have any places to go or people to impress. They ask me if I’m getting all dolled up to impress a guy, to which I answer—of course not. I wear makeup to impress Richard Cowell Anderson, the ghost of a Confederate soldier who haunts my apartment.
When I first realized there was a ghost of a Confederate soldier hanging around my 620 square feet Midtown apartment I was like, hold up. I wasn’t expecting roommates.
At first it was the regular ghost stuff, all the moaning and groaning and what have you, always at inconvenient times, like late at night or when I was trying to talk on the phone with my mother. Then I finally did a little séance thing I found on the Internet and had a good discussion with Richard, who is actually a nice enough guy once you get past all the walking through walls while I’m trying to use the bathroom stuff!
Besides the sweltering wound on his shoulder where he was shot with a Springfield rifle at the Second Battle of Manassas (it’s a long story), he’s a totally normal dude. After that initial conversation, it all kind of snowballed. What can I say? Dating in New York is a hellscape, and Richard Cowell Anderson, murdered Confederate soldier though he may be, is a total, absolute dreamboat. Now that he’s officially courting me, the sexual tension in the apartment is so thick you could cut it with a knife. Sometimes while I’m working on my computer the hair on my arms will raise and a chill like a frozen rivulet will run down in between my shoulder blades, and I’ll know Richard is right behind me, staring at the back of my head while I balance spreadsheets for my extremely fulfilling corporate job. Talk about sexy!
So yeah, I started wearing a little makeup around the house. I was self-conscious! Here’s this ghost who looks extremely dapper in his full soldier uniform hanging out in my living room, and I was in my college sweatshirt and running shorts like a slob. Who wouldn’t feel a little pressure?
At first it was just a little bit of mascara, some concealer on my imperfections…but then I started doing full glam. I knew I wanted to be as physically appealing to Richard as possible, so I decided to learn how to do a goddamn 19th century plaited updo. I managed to do it one time and it looked ridiculous, but when I tell you I have never seen Richard hornier a day in my life, I mean it. It’s tough on account of Richard’s taste being so specific. For instance I tried putting my hair in French braids and Richard made it into a whole thing. Turns out someone doesn’t like the French. He has weird taste in my hygiene practices, too. You wouldn’t believe the areas this man won’t let me shave. I tried doing some very tasteful trimming of the bikini area the other day and Richard fully called me a harlot.
Of course at first I was like, okay, maybe he’s a little high-maintenance, but I can’t fault a man for knowing what he wants! One day we were going through his family photos (thanks, Ancestry.com!) and I was like, Richard. Are you dressing me up like your goddamn wife? And he was like, which one? And then we had a good laugh. I just can’t stay mad at this guy!
Some women will say that you should never change what you look like for a man. But when you find the one, and the one is a very hunky ghost of a Confederate soldier, you make exceptions. Even though I’m so happy in my relationship, I recognize it has some limitations. Obviously, we can never talk politics. I mean, he fought for the Confederacy, and I donated to Planned Parenthood once in 2017! And yes, sometimes he starts wailing like a banshee whenever I use my vibrator, which cost me 50 dollars, mind you, but everyone has to make sacrifices in their relationship. Okay, and his idea of foreplay is a little weird. He likes to read me history books about something called “the War of Northern Aggression.” Sure, it’s unconventional, but I’m 25. Like both Richard and my mother always say, it’s not like I’m getting any younger!
He’s not really one for this world, so we pretty much stay in the apartment. And he’s not totally outdated—recently he discovered Fox News and absolutely loves it.
Just on the slim chance this whole thing doesn’t work out, I’ve been poking around the Upper West Side for a new place. I found a fantastic one-bedroom apartment with natural light and a ghost from Brazil with a German accent. What? A girl’s gotta have options. I don’t feel like Richard would be super weird about me moving out. It’s not like white men from the south are known for holding grudges, right? Right?
- About the Author
- Latest Posts
Amanda Brennan is a comedy writer who lives in Columbus, Ohio BUT THAT ISN’T HER FAULT. She has two plants.
