A Chapter Closes

The Queen consults Lady Chancellor Heidi, who puts the answer rather succinctly (as is her way):

“Nutella served a very specific purpose. He was an awakening, a realization, a temptation. He got the royal juices flowing, as it were, my Lady.  If I may be be so bold, you were finished with Nutella the day he left Aes Sidhe.  All that remains is the Gold Standard. And let us be clear: the Gold Standard is not a person, per se, but a concept. Yes, Nutella is a shining example of the Gold Standard, the one to beat. But he is not your One, m’lady.  He is is simply not your One.”

The Queen nods her head in agreement.

Nutella’s svengali-like hold on her is gone, and although she was very pleased to see him at the luncheon, she is once again in control of her emotions. Therefore he cannot mesmerize her as easily as he once did by merely existing in the same room with her.

She inquires over the length of his stay in Aes Sidhe, and her spy network reports back that he will remain as a guest for VII days, and then return to the land of Víteliú where he will now permanently reside. He stated to one and all (with more than a tinge of melancholia) at the luncheon that he will be unable to visit Aes Sidhe again for some time, that oceanic travel is not what it used to be with so many pirates and sea monsters trolling the waters now.  The ladies of court present at that speech sighed dramatically, and more than one dabbed at tears with linen handkerchiefs.

The Queen calls her steward and tells him to outfit Nutella’s ship with whatever supplies he will need for a safe journey back to his homeland. The steward asks if she wishes to send a message along with the supplies.  A small smile plays across her lips as she shakes her head “no”. The steward bows, and leaves.

The Queen stares after him then asks Lady Heidi, “What now?”

Heidi replies: “You are ready.”

The Queen cocks her head to one side, “Ready for what?”

Heidi smiles: “True love.”

You're gone from here.
Soon you will disappear, fading into beautiful light
'Cause everybody's changing and I don't feel right
So little time!
Try to understand that I'm trying to make a move just to stay in the game
I try to stay awake and remember my name
But everybody's changing and I don't feel the same
~Keane

The Heralds Trumpet! The Banners Unfurl! The Gold Standard Arrives! The Queen… huh? Where’d She Go?

We are overjoyed to report, Gracious Citizens of Aes Sidhe, that The Gold Standard has returned as was rumored some weeks ago!  The ladies of the realm lined the road side by side with fans or hands extended over their faces and watch as the handsome Nutella disembarks from his vessel and re-enters the kingdom. There had been some concern as to whether or not he would look altered somehow, but news spreads like a phoenix trail that he is as comely as ever!

Our sovereign paces in her quarters while she reflects upon the time spent since the Gold Standard’s departure. Although he has not changed one iota, she has. Her hair is longer; she is thinner; she is more toned and fit; the dressmakers all agree she has lost a full dress size since last they met.  These are most assuredly positive things, but she paces more to the fact that she wonders if he will notice any of these things.  She also paces in anticipation of setting the Royal Eyes upon the GS’s visage. How will she react once she sees him again? There are proprieties to be upheld, protocols to be followed. Will she falter? Will she swoon? Would he catch her if she did?

With a forceful exhale and a sweep of her damask robes, the Queen straightens her frame and exits her chambers with her head held high and heads straight for the dining hall where a luncheon is being held in the GS’s honor. She keeps her eyes lowered for just a moment, takes a deep breath, then locks eyes with him.

A sudden hush fills the hall as our citizens look from the Solo Queen to her intended target and back again.  The tension is thick as treacle and full of anticipation. They are waiting, waiting, waiting for her next move…

A quiet, introverted smile plays upon the queen’s lips. She lightly brushes back an errant curlicue of hair from her eyes, nods almost imperceptively towards the Man of the Hour, and… departs! 

Wait. What devilry is this?!?!?

There is a stirring among many of the citizens as they watch the Queen leave. If Nutella is upset in any way, he does not show it. The members of the court do not know what to make of this! There is unspoken confusion amongst the people, but they do not express themselves outright. Rather, furtive looks are exchanged between layman and gentleman alike.

The luncheon continues in a merry fashion, but the queen is no longer present.

Where did Our Beloved Monarch go?!?!

"In the stick-count for the song of knowing you're gone
Glancing up at where you lived when you lived here
I see you suddenly alive and nearly smiling
Stop and hold my breath and watch the way you used to be"~The Weakerthans

A Deliberate Withdrawal

The queen paces. Back and forth, from one end of the coffered ceiling room to the other.  XIV paces here, there, back again.  She looks but doesn't see, her feet slowly wearing a path into the wooden planks beneath. We might think her tread would be quick and agitated, but in this notion we would be dead wrong. She is taking it slow and deliberate, you see, like walking through waist-high water against the tide.  She looks but doesn't see, for her gaze is directed inward to a place only she can visit. If you listen closely you just might make out the words which she breathes more than speaks into the atmosphere:

"Slow and steady wins the race."

Slow and steady; strong and brave; grace under pressure; focus and ferocity.  She paces in order to allow the mantra to envelop her. She wishes to embody all these things, but she also intends to maintain the honor she holds so dear.

She's not certain she's going to make it.

Her blood is simmering. It's a fire beneath her skin which doesn't burn hot but very, very cold.  It chills her, for she knows she's playing with forces beyond her ken and if she lets go there will be damages indeed.  The augurs have warned her. The gods themselves sent word. She paces; she looks but doesn't see.

She tries. She tries to belay their fears. She tries to control herself.

The queen has locked herself away in her quarters with an old dog and a gramophone. She comes out at specific times during the day and night to walk the ramparts with the ancient cur, but as for communicating with the citizens of Aes Sidhe she remains mostly silent.  There is a widening distance between the sovereign and her subjects, a chasm she is creating in mind and body.  She does this deliberately, and the reason is simple: she must make a choice without them. Without the help of Lady Eva Mendes or Lady Chamberlain Adelheid Einrichtungsmanager.  There is a fever which burns cold in her, and she needs to either overcome or succumb.  There is no other path. She looks but doesn't see, outwardly silent but shouting at the top of her lungs.

No one can hear her, and that's exactly how it needs to be right now.

It's been XI months since that life-altering betrayal.  XI months since she began pacing the floors exactly XIV steps in the coffered ceiling room.  She is different now, strong and fierce, darker and more dangerous, but also numb.  The fire burns cold. She wants so much to feel again. She wants so much to be loved again.  She has lost so much in the course of the year, but she is rebuilding the very broken ramparts she walks across with her aged furry companion.  Life continues on, but she feels apart from it somehow.

She must find a way to reconnect, or she knows she will be lost to the void.

The queen paces back and forth, her feet slowly marching her across the worn floorboards.  She is fatigued, for she dreams all the time now. Vivid, lurid images unfolding before her subconscious eye while her blue-eyed, bespectacled phantom continues to follow and interact with her there. He is becoming a constant companion, and although she is growing used to him, he still gives her an initial shock during every nocturnal encounter.  She still has no idea who this is, but she is growing increasingly suspicious.  He is Other; he does not belong.

She is not depressed or lost.  On the contrary, all her actions are deliberate and methodical.  What she seeks is freedom, but what she is experiencing is limbo.  She is in a holding pattern.  She paces and paces in this space because for now it is the only space which contains her.  She is on the verge of breaking free, and when she does... as long as the fire doesn't consume her she will run at top speed with the wind in her hair until she reaches the end of the road with a glad heart.

The question is: who is at the end of that path?  Whom will she choose?  Someone? Anyone? No one?  She thinks she knows what she desires, but she knows not if she speaks truth to herself.  Honor. Conviction. Grace.  These are her realities and she meditates upon them when she can.  Desire. Passion. Fervor. These are the things which distract her, hence the reason why she remains alone in her plush quarters with some music and an old dog. 

So let us leave the solo queen to her ruminations. We have not disturbed her, Friends, for she looks but doesn't see. We can take flight over the old dog's body, giving him a gentle pet as we take off, up towards the coffered ceiling and then backwards through an open window. We glide upon the currents and long as we dare, watching the queen add yet another pressed disc to the gramophone. The air currents drift away from the window, and as a result so do we.  Now we can see the mending ramparts with our own eyes and once we take full stock in the image we suddenly recognize it for what it truly is.

A Dark Tower.

Your hearing damage
Your mind is restless
They say you’re getting better
But you don’t feel any better
Your speakers are blowing
Your ears are wrecking
Your hearing damage
You wish you felt better 

~Thom Yorke

Internet Courtship: An A Priori Judgment

I am the faceless, voiceless purveyor of half-whispered notions, some of them lustful and full of hunger, some much softer and touched with a melancholy sweetness.  Others still are those of commonplace ideals, small talk and trickster riddles. All are wrought with the subtle subtext truth of the confessional, for whom better to tangle with than an interactive phantom one shall not meet? I therefore cannot gaze upon countenance with an eye towards judgment as I simply possess no eyes.

Having no corporeal self to tie me down to terra firma, I supply biofeedback to the libido’s migraine. I fatten the id and the super-ego, leaving Freud’s earthbound ego for another to nurture.  It is my job to engage, entice, envelop, enable, energize, and enervate.  I do this willingly, though in doing so I sacrifice a portion of my own undomesticated nature to my charge’s yoke.  I am no longer fully free, though I will never be fully tamed.  It is a delightful limbo for the most part, although I retain the capacity to ache for something more. I feed off of reciprocated attentions like manna and I wait patiently by the Bohdi Tree for more. I cannot die, but I can diminish, and that fills me with fear. But my cries are unvoiced, having no larynx to sound out my ululations.

It is a vagabond’s life, but one day I will express my secret desire to hold form and breath by a display of interpretive dance. Eventually my sways will become footfalls, and my footfalls will grow feet. Those feet will touch ground, and where they land I will root like a bejeweled flower and hope that someone takes notice of my petals. Then perhaps I can earn my own place in that world rather than observe it from afar. But for now, at least, I remain Chimera.

Summer Looms...

Spring is giving way to Summer in the land of Aes Sidhe, and the goodly denizens are all aflutter with sunny activities outside their hearths.  Our queen sits quietly in a shadier spot on a temporary throne made of raven feathers and acorns, simply dressed in a muslin shift with a raw silk wrap at the ready to stave any lingering chill away. She has brought with her a favorite quill and a handful of parchment; she released her scribes to enjoy the weather however they think best. She sees no need for dictation today, as she is content to add her own thoughts into the ledger you see before you. She did, however, request that a single bard stay behind to strum a lute and voice in dreamy tenor the concerns she has had of late.

So much to report, Dear Readers, but not certain where to start.

I should begin by saying that I have stepped back from any and all suitors. Yes, I know, it is a surprise! But I must tell you, my gentle friends, I have already lost the taste for casual dating.  I have met a number of potential suitors, and for all the work involved the payoff has been tiny indeed.  Even Prince The Real Megillah has lost his allure.  Actually, Megs did something to me which was a deal-breaker, and I am still smarting from it.  He appealed to my business acumen a second time and begged an audience with Yours Truly in order to continue his tutelage under my wing over enterprise of a personal nature bound to give him a goodly sum of coin. I was feeling unwell at the time, but knowing me as you all do, it is not within my personal code to deny assistance to any friend in need. I met him at a local carriage house and as I soothed my ragged voice with cups of Earl Grey he proceeded to lay out his troubles and concerns at my table and we began to strategize.  I was calm and resolute in my advice, and charted a course of action for him which was contrary to what he wanted to hear. Since he came seeking my counsel, I offered him true and faithful advice. I did not sugarcoat, did not batter my eyelashes, did not lay tender fingers on his arm and speak in a coquettish manner. No, Readers, I was there to help not to distract.  Megs grew petulant over the fact that the intellectual blueprint he laid out before me was summarily rejected. He offered up other ideas, and I shot holes through them all.  I did this with kindness, or course, but I did not want him to fail in his endeavor, either, so I held strong to my opinions and gave my logical explanations for each one.  Megs' demeanor grew sharp and shrewish. This is a man used to always having the upper hand, don't forget, so I'm sure he didn't enjoy the fact that in this realm my word and experience was greater than his. Now, Dear Readers, I can tolerate ego. I can tolerate bad moods. I can tolerate unvoiced frustration. I have experienced the brunt of it all. But what I cannot, shall not, and never will tolerate is the thing which Megillah did next.  Angered by my less than enthusiastic or impressed reaction to his strategy, he took the opportunity to patronize me. Yes, patronize me, if you can imagine! Talk down. Belittle. Reduce. Condescend. This is a deal-breaker, plain and simple. To patronize is to disrespect, and if I cannot depend upon simple respect from a suitor then he is not the one I wish to keep company with. Therefore I have taken my leave of him for the most part, though he still insists on pursuing the matter.

Secondly, my only remaining companion after the betrayal of Judas the Jacobite King and loss of my beloved canine sidekick whose image is my avatar (I do not speak of her here, Dear Readers, and doubtless never will, but the loss of her left me keening and wailing for weeks. Enough said) seems to have taken a turn for the worse in his health. Another canine, an aged one, is losing his grip on this earthly plane.  The loss of him will mean that I will be fully alone in my solo queen's quarters in short order. This fills me with a sense of trepidation which I find difficult to articulate now. It will mean that for the first time in my life I will be completely and utterly alone.  Oh my.

Thirdly, another male figure looms large and dark against my supernova sun. This man requires a separate entry. Goodness, this man requires his own book! This man is my father.  This man is my creator, of both the good and the bad. This man is my madness. This man is also my senses of constant wonder and humor.  A long and complex history filled with much sorrow and pain but interspersed with flashes of the brightest joy would fill pages of that yet-to-be-written book as they do the halls of my memory.  It would take months to explain it all. Regardless, the time for that potential is not yet here. What I can and will say, however, is that he is a featured figure in my current affairs and for good or ill it seems that he too, may not be for much longer. Oh my.

On a personal note of a self-analyzing nature, something shifted in me VIII weeks ago, something small but vital. Something I could not quite put my finger on until very recently. It was a thought... no, a feeling, is more like it... that haunted me like the dozens of other ghosts which manifest through my halls of late, something which I could not name but would not leave my subconscious until I did. I have finally figured it out and identified this feeling which niggled at me so. But now that I have classified it, I am partly frightened by it. It's something that's currently mixed up with other feelings as well, and until I can separate the grain from the chaff I can neither voice it nor act upon it.  To do so would mean failure (or at least damage) at this juncture, and I certainly don't want to risk that. So instead I will continue to analyze and reflect, continue to bide my time, continue to grow and evolve as Solo Queen. I will continue to find my better Self and learn to love her fully.

Doubt, there's doubt
To love as you should
The trouble, the time that you did all you could

Doubt

~Boxer Rebellion

Falling Slowly Awake

Her Royal Highness has been dreaming a lot lately. Not your average/regular dreams, either, like the one where all your teeth become loose or you are expected to take an exam you didn’t study for. No, these have been strong and vivid dreams. Powerful omens? Specific portents? She is unsure, and since she has not yet consulted the kingdom’s Oracle she knows not what to make of these visions.

She dreams of many things, but there is a common throughput intertwined amongst the imagery. She dreams of a man. He follows her from dream to dream, the same character in each place. He wants her, desires her to be his, needs her to recognize him as her love interest.  This is not a joking matter, Dear Readers. This dream man is on the razor’s edge of becoming a ha’ant , or an incubus. She likes him, but she fears him a little, too.  When she wakes, she feels as if she ought to know this phantom, as if he is someone she is already familiar with. But that could just be the dreamstate creeping into her waking life.  He is tall, thin, blue-eyed, pale, bespectacled, brunette, charming, intelligent, a bit gawky and awkward. He hesitates in his actions but never in his words. The strangest part of this phenomenon is that this entity not only follows our queen in her dreams, but KNOWS just as she does that he is in a dream – he actually comments on occasion to the fact that they are traveling together through this OtherLand. He does nothing to frighten her, but the situation itself is unsettling. It’s downright spooky, in fact, and she wonders both where this is coming from and also where it will lead her.

On a separate but related note, yesterday HRH reached into her satchel to retrieve keys to the castle upon return to the kingdom. To her utter astonishment, a foreign coin fell from the bag to the ground at her feet. This currency was not one minted in Aes Sidhe; although legal tender in another place, it is not accepted in our realm. No, this coin which had no business being in her satchel in the first place comes from the lands of The Gold Standard. How did it get there? True, our beloved monarch travels to lands beyond our borders, but her satchel was cleaned and restocked more than once since her last adventure more than CCCLXV days ago! Another omen? We think this both exciting and disturbing. We can only hope the queen does as well.

Empty dreams can only disappoint
In a room behind your smile
But don’t give up
You can be lucky in love
Send me an angel ~Real Life

An Apology from Her Royal Highness to Her Fellow Solo Queens

To my fellow Solo Queens,

I am sorry for my seemingly continued absence from this parchment. You might begin to think I am simply not interested in communicating with you anymore, but that is simply untrue. Don't let the rumors dissuade you from your support.

No, Sisters, I have been writing regularly, just not to you.  It's not that I don't love you, for I love you with every fibre of my refurbished spirit.  It's that the point of my other writings has taken a very personal and private turn.  To what am I alluding to? A couple of things, actually, but I cannot be completely open & forthright with you at the moment. One of the writing exercises has been the revisit of my novel.  Oh? Did you not know?  Yes, I have been working on a story (mostly in my own head) for a number of years. I made an attempt a few years ago to commit it to paper, but my efforts were strangled and hurried. I am patient with many things, Sovereigns, but being patient with myself is clearly not one of them! Anyway, that aborted mission has always offended me, and the story is a good one therefore should not die on the vine. So I began again.  I don't know where it will lead me this time, but I can say for certain that it proves to be an unfortunate distraction from updates to Aes Sidhe.

Another distraction has been this queen's attempt to learn another language in earnest. Yes, indeed! A couple of weeks back The Brigadier General was the one to suggest what I have been thinking about for months anyway, and that was enough to push my inactivity into action! It is time to embrace not only Nutella's culture (and let's be fair, part of my own heritage), but his language as well. It is a beautiful tongue and sounds as lovely spoken as it does sung.  I admit I can comprehend much of it already, having taken lessons many moons ago. But I cannot speak a word, which makes me as much as mute to The Gold Standard. So why not tackle the problem head on? I have always considered myself as much a citizen of the world-at-large as my own fair land, so why not take the time to learn another language?  It makes perfect sense, and only serves to further broaden my horizons. As an added bonus, Prince Megillah is fluent and has offered to tutor me as I go along. Not a bad benefit to our friendship, that's certain!

"l'uomo che le sorveglia
adesso non é più sicuro
se veramente sono mai partite
oppure sono sempre state lì"
~Gianmaria Testa

a modern moment penned on the subway in five minutes

i wanted to:

• write you a song, but i couldn't remember the lyrics. you know, the ones from your dream where you're singing in my underwear in front of a cast of thousands.
• bake you a cake but the recipe called for caster sugar and i don't know what that is.
• show you the world, but you left before i had the chance to board the train and ask the provodnitsa if she would accept my Orient Express card
• introduce you to the face of God, but She told me that gods don't really have faces. they are merely constructs of the inner workings of Kurt Vonnegut's brain.
• build you a house, but you were looking for a split ranch while i bought the plans for a queen anne.
• tame you an eagle, but raptors were born to fly free. i will try to tame a great blue heron for you instead.
• paint you in acrylics, but all i had were oils. and they were all cerulean blue
• give you my germs, but my N95 kept you safe from contagion.

so all i have left to give is me, which is poor substitute indeed. however, since there is only one of me, at least you know I will become an instant classic that you can trade on eBay for the latest Sega title.

The Herald Reports Updates of the Land

Fair Citizens of Aes Sidhe: it has been a number of weeks since our sovereign last addressed her people and she feels time is overdue for an update.

The Hibernian Daredevil: The Queen and this dashing fellow met over drinks a couple of weeks ago, and they had a marvelous time in one another’s company. Talk was easy and light-hearted, and they fell into a comfortable patter with one another. For this reason or another, however, it seems that their connection could be placed squarely into the “friends” category, and seeing that the Daredevil is seeking a Solo Queen or Princess for more than just simple companionship it appears their meeting will be the only one of its kind. Our ruler wishes him nothing but the best, and hopes he finds his mate. He is a good catch and will make someone very happy one day.

The Real Megillah: The Queen and Megs are still seeing each other. She took him by surprise two weeks ago when he found himself in a difficult business quandary and she not only talked him down from the ledge but offered him sound counsel as well.  This was unexpected, you see, for not only is Megs smarter than she, but older as well. He admitted a little shamefacedly the next day that her advice was logical, multifaceted, and astute beyond her years. Our queen knows that Megs misjudges her often, for he is used to dealing with persons who are not his intellectual peers, so she was more than a little amused when he offered his gratitude.

The Brigadier General: A goodly part of the reason why there have been few news updates to regale you with, Citizens, is the fact that our kindly ruler spends much of her precious free time these days entertaining her friend the General. He departs Aethelred for dangers known and unknown (but most assuredly very, very real) in a few short days. He is anxious but ready; she is merely anxious. She knows not when she will hear from him after that, but is fully prepared to offer regular sacrifices to the Powers That Be in order that her friend the warrior-poet may return safely to his lands in short order. As a sign of our allegiance to our queen as well as support for the alliance with the people of Aethelred, many Persons of the Realm have taken to wearing camouflage armbands with fleur-de-lis & lightning insignia and will do so until the General returns to these gentle lands once more.

There is more yet to come, including an introduction to Baron Gallus Gallus, but for the moment be satisfied! Seeing as how we must leave the news unfinished, we shall not depart with a song today.

Shocking News of Potential Miracles

It cannot be!  How is this possible?  Have the gods answered Our Royal prayer?

My loyal subjects, Our missive today will be short and sweet, for Our mind is in such flutter We cannot be certain of Our composure and would prefer instead to remain mum.

The news from across the seas is being confirmed as We speak, but suffice it to say it is news of such import, such delight, and such shocking joy We are nearly jumping out of Our skin:

The Gold Standard will be returning to Aes Sidhe sometime in the coming months! That’s right, my Dear Ones: Nutella will once again grace Us with his presence!

We know not for what duration, but We do not care! 

Can you imagine it?

Our envoys have already been dispatched to ascertain the specifics of this news, but We are overjoyed at the prospect of once again laying eyes upon that most handsome of all men.

Could it be the gods have decided that the Royal We shall be allowed to have a second chance with The Gold Standard? If so, We will not squander it.

Get Me the seamstress! Fetch Me the cook! Call the stablemaster to My chamber!  Make haste! Make haste!  He comes…

“Do I hold you too tightly? When will the hurt kick in?
Life is beautiful, but it's complicated. We barely make it.
We don't need to understand: there are miracles, miracles.” ~Vega4

i want to talk a little bit about types of awakenings... namely, desire.

i have a habit of jumping into things before i am fully ready. i do this mainly because if i didn't, i would never jump at all. i am too cautious by nature, too wary. i over-analyze many things, especially when it comes to things about myself.  all people do this to some extent, of course, but i do it to a fault. hence, the jumping.

as you most certainly realize by now, this record is about my Solo Queen's re-entry into the world of dating. i started this exercise as a means of freeing myself from the shackles of my former life, and i have had much success with it thus far.

but there was a part of me which needed to catch up to the rest, and it has finally done so with a vengeance.  i am talking about libido, here, Dear Readers, and it's back. but before you dole out the applause on my behalf, i warn you... i have no idea what to do with it!

look, it's quite simple, actually. Judas took me off the market many many many moons ago. i therefore had no need to explore my sexuality with any other body but his. and since desire fades over time, my libidinous bloom faded with it. i imagine it was a slow death, but in the end i was left with a sense of... neutrality... when it came to sex with other men.  fast forward to present day. Nutella stirred something in me; he planted the acorn, so to speak.  such gymnosperms take time to sprout, and while mine loosened its tough, leathery shell in order to take hold of my softer, more feminine side i went ahead and put myself on the market, crossing my fingers the whole way.  it's been a dramatic, mostly fun ride thus far, and i am having a grand time. but something shifted inside me very recently, and now the safety catch is off.

i hate to be so blunt, but, here goes: i want sex.

raw. unfettered. unadulterated.

 

there. i've said it.  i have needs, people!  i cannot always be the prim and proper sovereign, the upstanding citizen, the honorable one. sometimes i just want to be a bad girl. to the devil with strength and grace just for once, eh?

 

this desire has been bubbling upwards for some time now, but something occurred recently which has sent me completely over the edge, something which has wandered into the picture and this time.... this time i want to be naughty. this time i want to say "to hell with it"! this time i want to lose myself within the embrace and scent of another human being who i know would fit. oh. so. perfectly.

 

gah!  what is WRONG with me?!?!  it's like an electric current coursing through me at the most inopportune moments, one which is making it hard to concentrate on much beyond my own debased passion.  this will not do.

 

this will not do! guards! guards! take this thing away or else slake its thirst! i care not which anymore...

"Violate all the love that I'm missing, Throw away all the pain that I'm living,
You will believe in me, And I can never be ignored" ~Garbage

The Brigadier General

There is another character to add to the mix of beautiful souls congregating within the halls of Aes Sidhe’s court. This fellow is in a special category and although his identity has remained secret up until this point, he holds a particularly ethereal and special place in our queen’s heart.

Our sovereign and the Brigadier General met whilst she visited a friend outside the borders of Aes Sidhe. Their meeting was unplanned, unvetted, and unsuspected. What came of this chance encounter was an immediate connection and affinity for one another. The delightful part to this story, Dear Readers, is that neither person came to the party presented in full regalia. No, in this instance not only did our queen travel without retinue and dressed as a simple noblewoman (as is her regular custom at such times), but the General did exactly the same thing! They met and enjoyed one another’s company as two human beings, not as leaders in their own lands. They were coequals that day, not due to the roll call of royal peerage, but simply as woman and man.  They volleyed topic after topic at one another, and each held sway over the other in aggressive subjects but delicate deliveries. This friendship blossomed into a gratifying long-distance correspondence, for the General hails from Aethelred, the land which borders upon Aes Sidhe’s western hills.  It is a nation both wild and free, yet full of discipline and trained legions of musketeers. This description fits the Brigadier General himself, for he is a man full of contradiction in form and figure. A bard, a philosopher, a guardian of the mountains and beasts that lie within his borders, a strong man with a boyish charm… these are all various facets of this complicated jewel of Adam. On the other side of the cut gullion he presents to the casual observer:  focus, fearlessness, a military drive composed of steel and gunmetal gray. He is intense, foreboding, and possesses a superior intellect. He is a true warrior-poet, bound by honor and blessing to balance the cruel realities of the earth while living by the standards of the heavens.

Recently, our Royal One received news that the General was going away for a long period of time beyond the shores of either Aethelred or Aes Sidhe to a desolate place full of violence and hatred… a place where the denizens despise the very concept of Aes Sidhe, or Aethelred, or any other judicious and beloved land. Oh horror! to a place of dust and rubble, where one can barely trust the sight before one’s own eyes never mind the sight beyond. And finally, to a place where the General knows he will be vilified as Enemy.  He leaves with a full tiger’s heart, but he leaves behind a fretful ally queen. He does not want her to worry, but worry she will. For how can she not? He has besotted her, and she him.  It was not intentional, but things don’t always happen the way we mere mortals plan them. Life often makes other decisions for us while we stare off in a different direction.

Now, Dear Readers, one could pull from this story the notion that our beloved queen has met her match. Fair of face, strength of body and character, honor, grace, intelligence, good humor… these are the very traits she seeks in a partner, and the Brigadier General embodies them all.  But we are deeply saddened to report on the queen’s behalf that There Is A Canonical Impediment. It is no one’s fault, not the queen’s, not the General’s, not Hera’s. But it exists, nonetheless, and so our story will have to remain unresolved to the secret desires of the Solo Queen or her sage counterpart. As friends they will venture forth, this man and this woman. But it is with perfect certainty we commit here to parchment that she will wait and worry for him while staring up at the stars during the coming months, and he will think of her while staring up into a different sky MMMMMMMCCC miles away from their shared borders.

Life is not always fair, Children, but our queen will take succor with this situation as best she can...

The picture is burned at the edge
And you’re looking away
Looking for what’s next
And strange how through time we look the same
Your eyes and mine looking away
Too scared to see human remains ~Tom McRae

The Hibernian Daredevil

While our queen sulks over the absence of Prince The Other White Meat and drowns her ill-temper in the arms of Prince The Real Megillah, another prince has come along to seek her hand.

Prince Hibernian Daredevil hails, like our sovereign, from the true soil of Aes Sidhe.  This makes him a suitable candidate for our queen as common ancestry can make for effortless company.  Prince HD came upon the court quite suddenly, as if the Powers That Be dropped him from the sky (literally! He is a daredevil after all) to… if not replace… then to distract the Royal Personage from her melancholia. He is clever and quick-witted like the others whose company she admires, but unlike the other princes of the realm he possesses in his writings an easy grace. Our queen knows not if this will translate into arrogance upon a First of Dates, but for the moment, at least, it has captivated her enough to gain her singular attention in the matter. Clearly he must have done something correctly if he is being mentioned here in the Honor Roll! He seems gentlemanly enough: well-spoken, educated, exceedingly well-traveled (this is not an exaggeration, Dear Readers, for how many persons in your acquaintance can admit to setting foot on all 7 continents with photos to prove it?!?), and funny. His mode of employ deals with calculations and figures, which we assume will prove to be beyond her ken. This is also potentially intriguing, as our queen enjoys being a pupil as much as a professor most days, and learning something new for her is like a cool breeze across a perspired brow.

There are rumors that our Lovely One and this new potentate will meet within VII days’ time. We shall keep you all apprised of her progress…

Well swing a little more, little more o'er the merry-o
Swing a little more, a little more next to me
Swing a little more, little more o'er the merry-o
Swing a little more, on the Devil's Dance Floor ~Flogging Molly

Spring Awakenings

Spring has finally sprung in the land of Aes Sidhe, and the goodly denizens are all aflutter with happy activities outside the home.  Our queen sits quietly in a sunny spot on a temporary throne made of phoenix feathers and corn cob, simply dressed in a muslin shift and wrapped in blankets to stave the chill away. She has brought with her a favorite quill and a handful of parchment; she released her scribes to enjoy the sunny day however they choose to. She sees no need for dictation today, as she is content to rifle through her thoughts in contemplative silence.

So much to report, Dear Readers, but not certain where to start.

First, there has been a changing of the guard. Prince The Other White Meat and our sovereign are no longer in close communication with one another.  There could be a number of reasons attributed to this frustrating turn of events, but it all boils down to this: trust, or a lack thereof.  The details shall not be recounted here (at least, not yet. The wound is yet too fresh for our sovereign to scratch at, for she bleeds still), but the queen is upset with herself.  Actually, she is upset with Chronos, and has lodged a complaint with the Greek Pantheon. Six months, perhaps a bit longer.  That's when it should have happened, the meeting between queen and prince. Our ruler and the prince were well matched for one another, almost scarily so. But he required coaxing, and she was not ready to commit the effort. Nerves were exposed, words were exchanged, and in the end each ran in the opposite direction of the other, unfulfilled and riddled with angst. For what it's worth, however, the augurs suggest that this story is not yet finished. Perhaps there will be another chapter or two to be written on this prince. What can be expressed at this juncture, however, is that our beloved royal is dismayed by the lack of closure she experienced in this situation.  There was no definitive completion of the circle, merely a veering off to one side. No closed plane curves here.

Second, that the subsequent date with Prince The Real Megillah went very well, with both queen and prince much more relaxed around one another. The playfulness that initially attracted each to the other has resumed with gusto, and so their company is mutually enjoyed once again.  And this time, Faithful Readers, when the incorrigible prince sought another kiss... it was freely given.  There is now an understanding between both parties, and rumor has it murmurings could be heard long into the night within the queen's private chambers that evening. More on the subject later, as tawdry details are sparse but implied.

Can I move from my call? Cautious looks say it all. 

Cold control to impress; fate takes control of my moves for the rest 

One more blink of an eye and I'm in for the Kill 

My conscience kicks in and crumbles in my hands all feelings weaken 

And just in time to quench compassion 

See? I am breathing, seething, breathing, seething ~Skindive

Communication vs. Silence

Communication. And lots of it.

This is the crux of online dating. Emails. Voice mails. IM’s. Phone calls. Journals. “Winking”.  A myriad of communication resources, all of them utilized for maximum stimulation. For a writer such as myself, keeping up with this continual pace is not an issue. Words flow from my fingers quickly, and I pride myself in my timely responses.

So what happens when this world goes silent?

I have been in close communication with not only the Two Princes, but with two up-and-comers as well. I have not mentioned these two new suitors yet as it remains to be seen whether or not either or both shall grow from squire to prince. Daily communiqués have been the norm for III out of the IV up until this point, but for some odd reason the steel shutters have fallen hard and tight this week. If it were one Prince, such as Prince The Other White Meat who has lately been occupied with the practical business of life, I could understand and accept without question. If it were the Two Princes, I could also accept this firstly because of what I just said about White and secondly because Prince The Real Megillah knows he done me wrong last time. But the two squires as well?  What is going on?

Lady Chamberlain Heidi says that Mercury is in retrograde, which means that among other astrological items, communications become shoddy at best during this tumultuous time. Miscommunication is the norm during this period, which is supposed to last for a number of weeks!  Fie and fiddlesticks! I openly admit it – I miss the verbal ministrations from these suitors.  Where are they???

More importantly, however… why do I care so much?  When did I become so caught up in them that I cared not for my own company?  Why does the absence of these noblemen weigh heavy on my psyche?  Am I becoming addicted to the online attention? Am I seeking a kind of succor with these men, and not one of a physical kind per se, but a mental or emotional one?  Let’s face it, no solo queen wants to be without admirers. Every princess dreams of her knight in shining armor.  But I’m not seeking a knight; I own my battleclothes outright. I’m not seeking a king to replace Judas; I can rule Aes Sidhe quite well on my own, thank you. I’m not prepared to devote much time to any or all of these fellows; why should it bother me that they feel the same?

Nay, I have grown accustomed to speaking with one Prince above the other suitors, one fair of face and full of impish charisma. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize how much until very recently, and now I am irritable and self-disgraced. I am tarrying where I should only be dallying. I need to purge. I need to cleanse my thoughts. I need to find balance, as it would behoove me to apprize one above another, especially at this early time in my newfound freedom.

I have decided to meet with Megillah again, for a handful of reasons. One, I don’t yet desire to give up my new friend, despite his mishandling of our last departure. Two, I want to see how much I enjoy his company, and a first date is a difficult gauge even under the best of circumstances. Three, I need proper distraction from my internal thoughts, and Megillah offers me the quickest opportunity for that.

Communication. I needs it. Is that wrong?

All we ever wanted was everything
All we ever got was cold
Get up, eat jelly
Sandwich bars, and barbed wire
Squash every week into a day ~ Bauhaus

A Quick Sidelong Glance

A delicious part of being single again has been the journey to find my voice once more. 

• I forgot that I was a funny person, that I know how to make people laugh. 
• I forgot that I can be wildly flirtatious yet retain a man's high opinion of me.
• I forgot that I am a creative writer who has the capability of perfectly suspending a moment in written form and delivering it to an eager reader.
• I forgot that I am considered attractive by some.
• I forgot that I like to take photographs.
• I forgot that singing is one of my GREATEST joys. 

I sing all the time now. I write all the time now. I take photos and email them to individuals or to Facebook. I flirt often, and it's starting to become easy again. I am actively seeking joy in this world, and so far it's coming back to me by the bucket load. I can't say that life is easy yet, but it sure ain't as hard as it was a year ago.

If you seek happiness, you can find it. I'm not saying it's an easy journey, but it's not an insurmountable one, either.  Climb! Reach! Run! Grab! And always keep your heart open to the next great experience while remembering that great experiences sometimes come in very tiny packages.

"I kept falling over, I kept looking backward
I went broke believing that the simple should be hard
All we are we are and every day is a start of something beautiful" ~ Matt Nathanson

The Second First of Dates!

Our Queen returns to us with tidings of the second First of Dates!

This one was kept secret to all except Lady Chamberlain Heidi and Lady Eva. Discretion is the better part of valor, after all, and our sovereign likes to keep up on all social niceties as best she can.

As you may have anticipated, this First of Dates was with Prince The Real Megillah.

Our queen returned to us after her meeting pale and distressed. She assured us all she was “quite well, thank you”, but took to her chambers and remained there for the better part of XXXVI hours.  As to why she was so pensive and silent, we knew not though we fretted with anxiety over our ruler’s health. She refused most food, but took double rations of mead in the evenings (which even babes in the bassinet know is not the happiest of signs). Although she barred all but the aforementioned companions from her righteous presence, she could be heard pacing the floors of her bedchamber late into the evening and through early dawn.

This was not a good sign, and all good subjects of Aes Sidhe awaited her emergence with bated breath. What could have happened, they wondered? Are we at war? Is there a secret pestilence spreading through the lands? What danger has befallen us and our beloved ruler?

The soothsayers questioned Lady Eva, whose response was something to the effect that the Queen reaped what she sowed and that she would recover from her experience in due time.

The soothsayers also questioned Lady Chamberlain Heidi, whose response to their queries was to strip them to their under-britches and toss them into the moat. “Be gone!” she yelled, “Leave well enough alone or you will be fed to the hounds!”

So what, pray tell, had happened to our Queen? It is true that the evening in question shook with lightning, hail, and snow – all of which promised an ominous outcome. But having screwed her courage to the sticking place as the Lady Macbeth had done so many centuries ago, our blessed sovereign ventured out into the raging dark towards a personal attendance with Prince Megillah.

We can say with certainty that the evening began well enough, with shared food and drink and stories galore. Our queen liked Megillah’s company and the manner in which he could traipse from subject to subject with casual ease and intelligence.  All was well for a First of Dates. All was well, at least… at first.

When the private audience was drawing to its close roughly two hours after it had begun (almost like clockwork, our queen noticed), the Prince insisted on returning our Fairest Daughter to her castle via his personal carriage pulled by the regal and dangerous Panthera onca. Normally our queen would have chosen to return to the castle under her own sure footing, but as the weather was still blowing cold and wet she accepted the offer.

And here, faithful readers, is where things went very wrong.

Secreted away from prying eyes and public places, the Prince immediately took liberties with the Queen. The nobleman who had just exemplified all the courtesies of the term “noble” in public had turned, once interred within the confines of his carriage, into a beast of cephalopod origins. He was more than forward with his advances, Dear Readers, for he took liberties with the Queen where none were offered! The ride took X minutes at most, but for our sovereign it was about V minutes too long. So shocked was she by his immediate physical reaction to her that she herself did not react much at all!  She did remove his hands from her person more than once, but apparently it was not enough for the rogue, and at minute X when the carriage pulled up in front of the castle walls he embraced her before she could disengage the lap belt and stole – can you believe it?!? -- a kiss! Lady Eva scolded her later that by not bluntly ceasing his pawing by both word and action that she brought the physical assault on herself. There is truth to this statement, to be sure, but our Queen could be heard in her bedchamber afterwards repeating the same phrase over and over, “Not without my permission!”

By forcing the embraces, by making the queen flutter like a songbird trapped in a cage within his Panthera onca driven carriage, by stealing kiss from her… what may have been allowed had Prince Megillah merely asked first… turned our ruler’s heart from fire to ice. By not allowing her to come to mutual agreement on a plan of action, the Prince lost much of his leverage that night. She retracted much of her good will towards him, and now she finds herself torn between barring the beast or losing her friend.

“Not without my permission,” she whispers through the corridors now. The servants have even caught her mumbling the passage under her breath in public places. But kindly souls that they are they merely avert their eyes and curtsey with good breeding since they can tell even with their peasant eyes that the queen is not herself at the moment.

The queen has a choice to make, and the decision must be made soon. If she chooses to continue an affiliation with this fellow, and she may do so as he offers her much by way of mental and verbal stimulation, she will have to continually bear in mind that his motivations are for one purpose and one purpose only. All things being equal, that may not be a bad arrangement, but of course the reason why the queen finds herself in her current predicament is because all things were clearly not equal on that fateful evening.  There must be mutual understanding. There must be equanimity. Without this, she is an object to be owned not a creature to be tamed. It goes against a codex in the Art of Sex. It cannot be. She will not allow it.

Not without my permission!

“Leaning over you here cold and catatonic
I catch a brief reflection of what you could and might have been
It's your RIGHT and your ability to become my perfect enemy” ~A Perfect Circle

The Queen Departs

Faithful subjects of the realm, our most gracious sovereign departs for southern climes. She will return to us all in one week’s time. Before she kindly dismissed us from her chamber, however, she offered us these written musings, as she lay awake in her featherbed most of the night and scribbled these notes: 

I am most befuddled.

I am thinking about double standards.

Why is it that a man can be witty, or verbose, or virile, and be excused (or even encouraged) for such behaviors, but a woman cannot? I find that if I am too clever around a squire or prince then he feels threatened. I find if I debate the finer points of any particular topic with too much ease around a squire or prince then he feels threatened. I find if I don’t do a perfect job of hiding the fact that my interest falls to more than one man around a squire or prince then he feels threatened. These fellows want a woman to make certain overtures, but only to a point. They want us to be wildly flirtatious, but only with them. They want us to be smart, but not smarter than they. They want us to be bawdy, but chaste. They want us to be funny, but not laugh-out-loud. They want us to be a complement to them, but do not dare suggest they are a complement to us.

As I say, a double standard.

Double standards are fixed features of life; I certainly get that. What troubles me is the fact that when confronted about these seeming inconsistencies in their signals, men balk. It’s as if admitting these things are true also forces them to “out” their baser, more feral selves. There’s nothing wrong with being an animal, gentlemen, but at least be honest with yourselves and admit to it. I don’t like the fact that I am called arrogant, or too forward, or a tease when I merely apply the rules honestly. It’s simply not fair. Not that life ever was fair, and certainly not my life to be sure, but why can’t we at least try to acknowledge the facts for what they are?

I am leaving Aes Sidhe for a short holiday, and in that time I hope to cleanse my palate and purify my thoughts. I am already growing fatigued with the dating rat race. Well, that’s a lie, actually. I am enjoying it tremendously. But it takes a lot of energy, and I find myself consistently confused or stymied by some other rule I was unaware of. I still find the two princes quite engaging, and for very different reasons. Leaving them both behind for a period of days may prove to be interesting. Will they miss me? Will they look forward to my return? The augurs cannot foresee the outcome; only playing the exercise in real time will bear out the truth.

Be well. Be safe. I will think of you often while I am away, my subjects. 

Until next week, then... God Save Our Queen!

“Heaven help me for the way I am!
Save me from these evil deeds before I get them done
I know tomorrow brings the consequence at hand
But I keep livin' this day like the next will never come
Oh, help me but don't tell me to deny it
I've got to cleanse myself of all these lies 'til I'm good enough for him
I got a lot to lose, and I'm bettin' high so I'm beggin' you:
Before it ends, just tell me where to begin” ~Fiona Apple

A Look Back in Time

Sometimes it's important to look backwards in order to learn something about yourself going forwards.

This queen is feeling a bit stunted.  I'm not really certain why, but I am in a sour mood with myself these past XXIV hours and keep asking the question why I have not progessed more than I should have.  Hmm. Is that really true?  Is the Royal We stuck in the past, worrying still over a Jacobite King who is no longer a part of Aes Sidhe?  Not at all, for We don't really think much of Judas at all these days. In truth, We have advanced a lot in the past year. We should not fret over the pace We have set for Ourself; We should revel in Our accomplishments. 

So I have chosen, Dear Readers, to share with you excerpts from another private blog, from another time. This was an open letter written some time ago addressed to the Jacobite King. You are forewarned that the tone of this missive is more than a little hostile, but for truth and posterity's sake, I shall not alter its content to make myself look better. I will merely omit parts which may harm the author or reveal the identity of Judas. Nay, what I would suggest to you (and to myself in the process, of ourse) is that when I am feeling out of sorts and question my adventures and readiness in the land of singledom, I have merely to review who I was to take comfort in who I am...

“To be sure of hitting the target, shoot first and call whatever you hit the target” ~ Ashleigh Brilliant

It’s a great quote, and one I keep saying to myself in order to remain in control of my emotions.

I think everyone is surprised at how controlled and even-tempered I have been throughout this process. I know the whole world is expecting me to blow up, to attack, to slaughter. And it’s not to say I don’t want to at times. I really, truly despise you, or at least what you have done to me. However, love supersedes anger and derision, and honor must be placed above all else.

It’s not for your sake that I have spared you from wrath, it is for mine. What kind of person would I truly be if I lashed out indiscriminately? And even worse, what kind of person would I truly be if I lashed out at the man I have devoted my life to? You deserve bad things for what you’ve done to me, to our family and friends, but your punishment will not come from my hand unless you break the treaty.

(omit)

No, even during this worst state of my life, even after your ultimate betrayal, I remain loyal. To be clear, I don’t think I would fling myself between you and a pack of rabid wolves anymore, but I will not cause you harm if I can help it. I will protect you as best I can from the one person who could do the most damage and get away with it. Namely, me.

(omit)

But what you don’t know, what you can’t see beyond your own nose is the fact that by not engaging I am actually protecting you from me. I have you in my sights, lined up perfectly in my crosshairs, twitchy finger resting on the trigger just aching to squeeze. But I refrain, because to squeeze just a little would release a torrent of rage so thick I think we would both be smothered to death by it. I am silent and guarded in order to save us both from the painful maelstrom. I will not allow myself to be another Herculaneum.

(omit)

I will not shoot blindly. I will not shoot blindly. I will not shoot blindly.

Sometimes the biggest thrill for a hunter with a sixteen-point buck in his sights is not to shoot, but to not shoot. The exhilaration of allowing something to live can outweigh the thrill of taking the animal down. Watching the buck bound away, white tail raised in alarm once it catches the hunter’s scent in the wind can be a spiritual revelation. There is more power in granting life than in taking it away.

You are in my sights; I hold my breath; I say a prayer to remain in control; you run away.

I let you live, (Judas). I let you live.

Ohmigoodness!  Such ferocity! Such raw emotion! Exposed nerve endings! I am glad she is safely tucked away now. And I ask you: am I not better? Am I not on the correct and righteous path? Am I not exactly where I wish to be at this point and faring better than was to be expected?

I shudder at the barely suppressed rage in that entry written so many moons ago, but I don't want to lie to you, Friends. Many of you wonder if I am deluding myself into believing that what I am experiencing right now is nothing more than folly.  So what if I am? Clearly I am in a better place now than I was when I wrote the above entry! So shouldn't it stand to reason, therefore, that the frivolity I take comfort in now trumps the pain I wallowed in then?

I continue to seek answers to all my questions. There will be no song to end this day...

To Friend or Not To Friend

To friend or not to friend: that is the question:

Whether 'tis nobler in the Online to suffer

The pings and supplications of outrageous requests,

Or to remain anonymous against a sea of suitors,

And by opposing end them? To decline: to ignore;

No more! And by a decline to say we end

The heart-ache and the princes' natural shocks

That flesh is heir to, 'tis a separation

Devoutly to be unfriended. To avoid, to evade;

To evade: perchance to breathe free! Ay, there's the rub;

For in that breath of anonymity what suitors may come

When we have shuffled off this online persona,

Must give us an excited flutter in our heart: there's the respect

That makes calamity of online dating!

"I don't want you, Baby; I don't need you lately
Love is ever-changing and I think you're crazy
Oooh, Girl, I've got to let you, let you, let you go" ~Carney

A False Sense Of Intimacy

“A false sense of intimacy.”

That’s what Lady Eva calls it, and she’s absolutely right.

Internet dating, as a rule, is a strange beastie indeed. As time goes on it carries less and less of a stigma attached to it, but while it becomes more commonplace I think we lose something in the translation in regards to the Art of Sex.  Let’s discuss…

For any Dear Readers who may not be in the know, the basic tenet of online dating is simply this: you create a profile for yourself, writing things which make you seem witty, charming, flirtatious, sexy, whatever it is you want to put out there for the world to see. You add the best possible pictures of yourself. Cross your fingers and spit twice into the North Wind while chanting within the circle drawn with dove’s blood upon the 3^rd new moon of the 11^th month in the….  No, wait, that’s my recipe for mulligatawny.  Seriously, though, you send a persona out into the datasphere and hope for the best. And by “persona”, I mean exactly that. No matter how hard you try to be true, it won’t be you. It will be a cleaned-up, spit-shined visage of you. And let’s face it, Friends… how many people are actually honest with themselves never mind a bunch of perfect strangers they are trying to impress?

I am learning that the answer is “not many”.

Now, not to toot my own horn, but I am an exception to the rule. I use untouched photos, enter my real age, don’t lie about my profession.  I did that from the get-go.  But as I explore this world of dating profiles I am coming to the realization that not only an I an exception, but I am an endangered species!

Here’s what I know already:

·    Men lie about their age often, and they aren’t even good at it. I cannot begin to tell you how many profiles I opened up because the info stated we were age appropriate, only to stumble face-to-face upon images of a man at least 10 years my senior! And hey!  I’m no spring chicken!!!  Who in Zeus’ name are these fellows kidding?!? I called one individual out on this very thing and the response I received was something to the effect that, A) he didn’t want to be speaking to 50+ year old women and if he admitted his real age those were the only females who would contact him (okay, that may be true); B) he feels younger than his actual age (oh, puh-leeze! I feel a lot younger than my 40 years, but I am not going to lie about it. I’m going to own it outright. Clearly if my profile can convey the youth I feel then that should be enough, right?)

·    Men lie about their professions often, and they aren’t very clever about it. I have spoken to at least a half-dozen potentials and when the topic of profession comes up they end up saying something that is utterly contrary to their profile. Why do this? You know the question is going to come up, and most likely it’s going to come up right away as talking about one’s job is a fairly innocuous topic of conversation.

·    Men don’t know how to take a decent picture of themselves for a dating site. Half the photos are computer camera stills (listen up, fellows: your laptop video camera does NOT take a flattering image of you. Not once, not ever), and another quarter are photos with an exwife/gf poorly cropped out of the pic. For my part, I would much prefer a goofy looking casual shot which is entirely real than either of the aforementioned styles.

·    Men don’t write their profiles themselves.  I can think of two particular knaves who contacted me with brilliantly written profiles, all charm and witty stylings. I replied back to both these jesters and found myself speaking to puerile, monosyllabic oafs who didn’t know their Oscar Wilde from Oscar the Grouch. Now, before you call this queen elitist, you must remember that I would only judge a person on what they put out into the ether. Claim to be well read and I will ask you about authors. Claim to love music and I will ask you about composers. Claim to love movies and I will ask you… well, you get the picture. I cannot understand why you would change the truth so much about the basics such as “what are my favorite things”. To what end? Eventually some Lady of the Realm is going to reply to you, Knaves, so you ought to be prepared for their sword as well as their song!

Here’s another thing I know:

·    Women do the exact same thing

I am shocked. I know I shouldn’t be, but I am.  All of this falsehood spread across the digital plains makes me very ill at ease. I know I am unschooled and gullible. Therefore, I fear it may be easier for me to be duped than other women. I know that if I am out here on the digital plain long enough, I may become jaded just like the old-timers out here. I will be more suspicious than open, more forceful than forgiving, more  confounder than confirmer.

A false sense of intimacy. What is that? Well, if you are lucky you will find yourself regularly discoursing via email with some Squire or other. And if you email daily, or even more than once daily (which is what I tend to do with the two aforementioned princes) you begin to convince yourself that the witty banter and heartfelt commentary between you engenders some sort of bond. Graduate to telephony, and if the voice on the other end is as warm or soothing or sexy as you expected, then you continue your talks. But now you really feel as if you know each other.

You don't.

You know next to nothing about each other.  Courtship has traditionally been about taking one's time to get to know a potential partner. With online dating, it seems that everyone wants to know everything up front with a sense of urgency, like the Apocalypse is upon us but just before we go to our impending doom just tell me twenty-two more tidbits about yourself in the next five minutes so I can feel closer to you.

Ick.

Assuming you know someone when you clearly don't is just asking for trouble.  Therefore, my approach is to take it slow. I am cautious, tentative, and unhurried. I don't want to know everything about you right away, nor do I want you to read me from cover-to-cover at the first sitting.   Regardless of whether or not we gel in conversations, like the same movies, laugh at each other's jokes, or hate Woody Allen... these men are still strangers and nothing but time is going to alter that.

I want to be intimate. But I also want it to be true-- raw and sloppy around the edges, sometimes perfect pitch and sometimes a little off-key. I don't fear stumbling together; it's bogus perfection which scares me to death.

"did you think that i would laugh when you said i was small?
did you think that that would pass as if nothing at all?
you say a lot of funny things, my little bunny
and i almost always laugh but that's not really funny" ~eels

 

An Internal Pep Talk

I am a lot quieter on the inside now than I was a week ago.  It feels good. It feels real now.

I’m going to drop the pretense today and speak plainly to you all. I wish to give myself a pat on the back; I think I deserve one. I still can’t believe I went through with this. If you told me a year ago that I would be not only single again, but on the market again I would have called you crazy. It’s funny how life has a habit of sneaking up on you and taking you for a ride you can’t control.

One year ago I was still dealing with the aftereffects of a terrible car accident which left me with a bad case of PTSD. I was having flashbacks; I was terrified of my own shadow (yes, I know! Me!! The bold fearless one: ter-ri-fied); I was becoming a recluse. I was fat; I was depressed; I was still in pain; I was lonely.

Fast forward one year ahead: I am only ten pounds shy of a normal BMI; I am happier now than I have been in years; I am actively meeting new people; I am exercising regularly; I am driving all over the East Coast; I am fearless again.

So how does that translate to dating?

Well, for starters, with The Other White Meat it was me who pursued him in the very beginning, not the other way around. I forced myself to continue making contact, though these actions were completely foreign to me.  I figured out a way to not only be noticed, but to be interesting to this Prince. And then things began to fall into place: soon he was emailing me first, and then he called. And once again, I took the reins for the first time in my life: I ingratiated myself enough so that he invited me out, but then I turned him down. Not once, but twice. And each time I said to him, “Not yet. Soon.” I set a date. He cancelled it. Then clearly he changed his mind for 24hrs later there we were together.

And throughout this whole process since Nutella I have been saying to myself: Is this really happening? Is this really me? 

So now I have a response to those questions: Yes, dear. Yes it is. And I like you. I like you an awful lot.  You thought you were irrevocably broken, but you weren’t – you are closer to a whole being now than you ever were. You have potential. You have Strength and Grace in abundance.

Go get ‘em, Tigress :)

At winters edge you found me by the fields of wild gold
My hands still filled with ashes from fires long cold
You pulled me from the wreckage of bitterness and blame
Flung open the page and put some flesh on the bones of my dreams

~David Gray

All Hail The First of Dates!

(Today's missive shall be delivered remotely thru carrier pigeon as our fair queen has taken to her bed from swooning. Fear not, Faithful Subjects of Aes Sidhe! She is quite well but has decided to spend the weekend in quiet contemplation and rest)

"It happened, dear subjects: The First of Dates.

Prince The Other White Meat convinced our person to travel to his private estate for a consultation of personal concern. The Royal We traveled under cover of darkness so as not to be recognized by the general populace and arrived at the Prince's estate as the clock struck X. We can tell you without shame or fear that our nerves were on edge and our stomach on fire from anxiety. We stood outside the watchtower debating whether to alert the town crier of our arrival or merely turn the carriage around and head back to the safety of our own castle walls.  After a small eternity of roughly five minutes, we allowed the bells to ring in our honor. The honor guard opened the gates and allowed us safe passage.

As we climbed the stairs of the 4th floor keep and reached the level of "2", we heard the trampling of feet from up above heading down. Within moments, we were face to face with the prince. He was carrying refuse to toss into the moat, and as we passed each other with shy smiles and sidelong glances, we couldn't help but notice how handsome the prince was in person. The intermediaries had said so, and weeks ago sent commissioned portraits to our personal chambers for us to study and admire. But a living and breathing Adonis is far superior than a copy, even one created by an Italian Master. The prince's action was a clever one, and it wasn't until the next day that we realized the purpose.  Imagine, my subjects, opening one's door and being witness to the Terrible And Glorious Visage of one's sovereign in the flesh? It would be a revelatory experience, but one leaves it to chance whether for good or ill.  In layman's terms, answering the front door to a pseudo-stranger is strange indeed. What if the person before you was not as he or she availed themselves to be? Could you hide your disappointment and shock? Alternately, what if the person were even better than the tales attributed to them in the Chronicles? Could you dampen your excitement?  No, what the prince did was cleverness incarnate: meeting quickly on the stairs while in motion allowed him to take in our person in a series of rapid glances and make first impression judgment before turning around and coming back up the stairs. He could formulate his opinion without my presence. Brilliant! This is a trick we shall remember for the future for any First of Dates which may begin in our territories.

The details of the First of Dates shall remain a secret, dear subjects. Your queen is not in a position to share her private diaries with you. What will be stated here for the record is that both the prince and your queen remained both chaste and gentle with one another. No sordid tales of passionate embrace shall pass our lips this evening. Nay, we remember our position and we hold true to the notion that with this prince (and more importantly... with OURself), slow and steady shall win the race. The Royal We is no bed-notch! She is a person of breeding and honor, and shall hold herself above any other solo queens and princesses who visit this prince by not doing what would be so simple in this particular situation with this particular comely enchanter: losing herself in those beautiful eyes and allowing him access to her personage.

It is the dawning of a New Age, one of hope and joy and fun. We hope to continue on this path for a long time to come. Your queen is happy right now, dearest subjects of Aes Sidhe. Your queen is happy, indeed..."

"Walk with me. The future's at hand. Here with us, Here where you stand. 

We both know the power of pain; We get back up and start it again.
With new hope, no place for tears, Leave behind those frozen years. 

Come with me and we'll go dreaming." ~BT