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

 

I want to talk for a minute about identity. Namely, mine.

I am an old-fashioned monarch raised by old-fashioned folk with old-fashioned ideas about dating, love, marriage, and the like. It was a struggle growing up, as these notions were in direct conflict with the current times. I guess you could say I was schizophrenic over matters of love from the get go.

I somehow got it into my head that my role was to complete a man. I thought that my duties as a good wife included putting my hopes, dreams, and desires on hold in order to hang onto my husband. I thought all wives did this. I really did, Readers, don’t laugh. Stop it, I can hear you! Okay, so it’s funny in a pathetic way. I see your point. I certainly agree with you now. I won’t get into the whys – clearly I was mistaken in my thinking and I recognize that now. I’m not complaining about Judas – he certainly played a big role but I made my own bed and simply let him roll around in it. Finally, I’m not going to trash-talk myself -- I know I’m not the only solo queen out there who diminished her own personality for her husband’s sake,  so if I make fun of me I am making fun of other monarchs out there as well and let’s face it, I am simply too polite to do such a thing.

The point of today’s discussion is to speak about identity, or the loss of it.

The hardest part after dealing with the immediate fallout of Judas’ departure was finding myself again. I literally had no personal identity. Everything I was, everything I thought myself to be, was an extension of Judas. Or that Judas was an extension of me. Without him, I wasn’t anyone. I certainly wasn’t myself.

Was I?

Actually, the correct question was: who was I? 

To begin the journey to find myself again, I went back to the starting line.

I laid the foundation by running straight into the comforting hug of Lady Eva. You see, Eva knew me long before there ever was a Judas. Eva remembered exactly who I was even if I didn’t. Eva took me by the hand and reminded me of all the glorious and wondrous experiences I had before the Jacobite King. She helped return the princess I was to the Queen I am, and it felt. So. Damn. Good.

From there it was a matter of slowly but meticulously shucking off the layers of coupledom and exposing the singlehood buried underneath. Don’t forget, Sisters, we were all of us single at one time. Our wedded lives may have been a year, or five, or thirty. But remember: we weren’t born married! I started this peeling process by reconnecting with things I used to enjoy as a single woman. Chick flicks. Alternative music. Regular exercise. Admiring boys (okay, so it was just Nutella for awhile but My Ladies if you saw him you wouldn’t have questioned it!). Those things put me in a better frame of mind because each was like reconnecting with another lost friend. 

It became a lot easier from there, because my life became a lot lighter. Those things that once made me happy helped me become happy once again. I'm not suggesting that A Room With A View and Erasure hold the same meaning for me still. But revisiting a happier time made me realize that happiness was still out there. I just had to go backwards to find it.  Then, once I held that joy gently between my fingers, I carried it forward into my current days.  It stays with me now, shares my food, my friends, my bed, my castle.  It it marvelous indeed.

And so now I am me. Not Queen and King, but merely Queen.  And it's gonna be just fine. Really. It is.

I am sharing this with you, my Royal Sisters, because there are many of you out there lost and alone.  I am here to say with bright conviction that tragic solitude does not suit you.  Find your princess. Hit the reset button. Start from the beginning. You can do it. You're gonna be great!

I'm right here if you need me. Exactly where I want to be.

"I'm moving on alone over ground that no one owns past statues that atone for my sins.
There's a guard on every door & a drink on every floor overflowing with a thousand amens.
And it's hard to say who you are these days but you run on anyway, don't you baby?
You keep running for another place to find that saving grace, don't you baby?" ~Tom Petty

Lady Eva insists!

Clarion call: Lady Eva is now insisting upon the First of Dates before any more correspondence with the princes!  Eva says the time for writing and phoning the princes has passed. She is worried that our cherished queen may be sorely disappointed upon meeting either The Other White Meat or The Real Megillah. And she has a legitimate point.

Our queen is quite comfortable sitting alone in her throne room. She has the Magicks of telephony and electronic messaging. She is a good speaker and a clever writer. She knows how to entice a man without overselling herself. But… until now she has refused a private audience with either prince.

She had a very real and specific reason. Namely, her viceroy and the Lady Chamberlain both insisted she attend to very serious business matters in the kingdom. A complement of ambassadors had come from a faraway land to inspect the farms and industry here in Aes Sidhe for three days, and it was imperative she receive them graciously each and every day. There were great preparations made for this visit, taking months of planning and execution before the emissaries arrived. They were to spend three days in the land, which they did in accordance with prior treaties written three years earlier. It was only yesterday that they boarded their ships and sailed away with holds filled with redolent spices and exquisite tapestries from our coffers. In return we received another three-year treaty. All in all, a comfortable victory for both sides.

But that task is now complete, so the queen must move ahead with her plans for the kingdom. She should tarry no longer, Eva says.  She will be resplendent and august before the princes, of that Eva has no doubt. It is only the queen who worries…

I am not used to this. Not used to being a single woman again. I mean, I have been single…. for some time, in fact. But I have not thought of myself that way. No, I haven’t thought of myself in any particular way for a long time. There was no need, and then when I first found myself to be single again I had absolutely no desire to put myself out there. I took my time to get my royal house in order first, spending a vast amount of energy in self-reflection and examination. I opened up every cupboard and cleared away all the cobwebs.

Except one.

I’m scared, Dear Readers. I know you may find that hard to believe, but it’s true. I am not afraid of putting myself in front of a man. I think that’s where Eva gets confused. I am afraid of rejection, plain and simple. I want so much to be liked that I may be willing not to be loved. If I don’t take the bull by the horns… if I do not actually meet these fellows… if I am contented to remain their devoted and erudite penpal and phone conversationalist… then I cannot possibly get hurt, right? Right???  No, it’s not that simple. I know that. I have to leave the throne room. I have to expose my vulnerable underbelly in order to experience life. I am fearless within so many facets of my existence -- why cower now? Oh, if only I had more faith in my abilities to deal with the opposite sex.

Anybody wanna double-date?

 

 

"Breathe with me. Breathe the pressure. Come play my game, I'll test ya! Psychosomatic addict insane!

Breathe the pressure... come play my game" ~Prodigy

 

 

Alone With Her Thoughts

The queen has dismissed her court and sits alone in her throne room.

What am I doing? (she thinks to herself) How did I get to this place?

And then the most important question of all: Am I ready?

The butterflies in her stomach are sending mixed messages. They could be signs of fear or excitement. She vacillates between empowered and abashed. She wants very much to move forward with her plans for the kingdom but cannot decide if the augers were correct in calling these “auspicious times”.

Auspicious, indeed (she comments aloud to no one in particular) but for good or ill?

She rests her dimpled chin in a cupped hand and stares at a fixed point on the wall across from her. She thinks about all of her physical flaws, wishing against the laws of time that she could dial herself back ten years and be that physical person instead of the one she sees in the mirror now.  She has smile wrinkles in the corners of her eyes which weren’t there before. She has to color her hair every 4 weeks now instead of eight. She has to watch every single morsel of food which touches her lips, and has weight to lose before she can feel comfortable in her own skin. In short, although she never truly contemplated it before, she is now feeling her age. In truth, she is frightened of it. She will have to work three times as hard in the Art of Sex than princesses and solo queens near half her age. She thinks of Cleopatra, and is fortified somewhat.

It’s all in the mind (she reminds herself) You are what you put forth.

Yes, that’s very true. You are what you put forth.  Feeling pretty makes you far more attractive than if you are pretty but feel low. It’s the same in business: walk into a room as if you own the place and you set the tone for respect.  It’s not about arrogance, but about establishing your place in that world, even if you can only hold that position for a few moments.  Ah! I see! So with the First of Dates all I have to do is wear my prettiest mask before the Prince for the first fifteen minutes. After that, the beauty will either bubble forth on its own or leak weakly out of my ears.  

I am SO not ready…

I do this thing where I think I'm real sick
but I won't go to the doctor to find out about it
Cause they make you stay real still in a real small space
As they chart up your insides and put them on display.
They'd see all of it, all of me, all of it. ~Rilo Kiley

I want to take a little bit of time to speak to my fellow solo queens about loss.

Sisters, there is an end to your sorrow. I am living proof.

I know what you’ve been through. I know the almost unendurable pain of failure, betrayal, and the destruction of Camelot. I know that you wake up every morning saying to yourself “Can I really do this? Can I live through another day? Will this pain ever go away?”

I am sorry to say it doesn’t. I won’t lie to you. You are all sovereigns in your own right, and as such I will offer you all the courtesies our birthright affords.   What I will tell you, as certain as the sun rises and sets, that your pain will diminish. It will fade to a dull throb. After awhile -- and I know this sounds like a Faerie Tale in its own right but I can assure you it’s true – there will be times when you don’t notice it. 

Your pain will cease to control you. I promise. But you MUST work at it.

Judas took away any innocence I had left in me. Took my life as I knew it. Took my heart as I gave it. Took my happiness, and left me with agony. He stripped me bare and left me shivering in deep winter. Even if it was not his intention to hurt me in this profound way, he managed to fracture my very soul.

Sound familiar?

Each of us has a story. The details may differ... Our timelines with our Jacobite Kings may have lasted months, years, decades. Some of us have been left with princlings to care for. Many of us have lost our castles. But all of us share that common bond of sorrowrageconfusion. We are tragic in our commonality, but we can draw strength from it, Sisters.

I am here for you.

I spent many months mourning my former kingdom. I knew not where to turn. I thought the end of days had arrived. I wished for death; I am not ashamed to admit it, for my pain was excruciating. But…

But…

But…

I made a promise to myself when Judas walked out not to nuke the kingdom.  I prayed every single day for the same thing; over and over I called out to the Powers That Be, “Strength and Grace!” Strength and Grace. Sounds simplistic, but it was genius in its purity. I reminded myself of all the good that Judas had done for me over the years. I reminded myself that my kingdom was built out of love, not hatred. I reminded myself that to be kind and fair is infinitely more rewarding than to be vindictive and punitive. It was hard. It took fierce concentration. More than once I swallowed the bile building in the back of my throat when I saw Judas. I had to tell myself not to hate him. This was not easy; it’s still not. It would have been much easier to give over to my rage.  But to what end, Sisters?  Where would that get me?  Would he come back? No. Did I want him back? Admittedly, the answer was ‘no’. So then I ask you, Fair Queens… why attack your Jacobite Kings? Why not let them go establish separate kingdoms, for in releasing them you release yourself in the process. I’m not saying it’s easy, but it can be done.

I am no expert. I can only relate to you my own story of woe. What I can say with an open and easy heart is that the time we waste clinging to What Was will only diminish the time we have to look forward to What May Be. I allowed myself time to mourn, to be sad, to be empty. But the day came when I said to myself, NO MORE. I literally told myself that the time for endless pain had ended.  When I felt sad, I walked away from myself. When I felt angry, I gave myself a hug. It was difficult, to be sure, but I refused to indulge my darker self.  No more pity parties for this queen.  Enough.

In short, I forced myself under threat of execution to find joy. I allowed myself to laugh. I allowed myself to be silly. I allowed myself to express my heart in a humorous way. Most of all, I allowed myself to acknowledge my grief without nourishing it. When you face yourself and your greatest fears, Sisters, it’s not the Devil you find. No, it’s only a mirror image of your own person. A weak doppelganger at that. But if you love yourself, truly take hold of your own hand and kiss it sweetly, then your fears contract and subside.

I would swear fealty on that.

“No more will my green sea go turn a deeper blue
I could not foresee this thing happening to you
If I look hard enough into the setting sun
My love will laugh with me before the morning comes”
~Rolling Stones