I go hot and cold on this idea I have for a novella, so I thought I'd put the idea out there and see what the response is . . .

Here's a rough opening . . . see if you can guess where the story is heading. Meet you at the bottom . . .

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The Candlestick Maker

I’D BEEN WAITING for my perfect man to come back to me all summer, ever since he’d melted in the year’s first heat wave. That was back in June—a whole three months ago. Though it felt closer to a year, if you ask me.

Days were longer without him sitting across the dye-splattered table as I molded candles in all shapes and sizes, like horses, and dogs, and cupcakes, and dildos, and butt-cheeks, and whatever else Berliners wanted that season.

My perfect man—Vincent, I named him, ‘V’ for the way his stomach tapered, the way I wished mine would too, but never quite did—my Vincent would never judge. He’d smile, ‘beautiful,’ he’d say, ‘how could it not be? Your hands are magic. Everything you touch comes to life.’

I was glad the latter wasn’t entirely true, or my workshop, my not more than thirty square feet, would smell badly of horse and dog, the cupcakes would all have been eaten—by myself most likely—and, well, that would be just too many cocks, even for my liking.

Still, just to hear him say it again would be bliss.

Lunch-break walks through Treptower Park were impossible to bear without his arm slipping into the crook of mine, and his deep voice as we bellowed out a cheery song or two.

Worst, though, worst were the nights without his arms embracing me. Without his soft kisses trailing down my throat before we made love.

So, when a yellowed chestnut leaf danced over my worn, brown boots, I knew the wait for my perfect man was over.
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So yeah, the story idea is a sweet and lonely man makes his perfect other half from wax every autumn and lives his "perfect" life until the end of spring. But alas, every summer his man melts and he must wait until the next autumn to remake him.

The story plays five years into this cycle and would cover one year--the year he tries to make a second "perfect man" for his songwriter friend.

I guess the story--meant to be light-hearted and quirky--would challenge the idea of what the "perfect man" is.

It would have a romance in it and I think an HEA. Hmmmm.

But maybe this is too weird?
If so, I have a couple of other ideas lurking about, so . . . :)