Knights & Shining Armor

A recent conversation with a new friend caused some creative sparks to fly in my brain and now you will be subjected to the wordsmithing results of said conversation.  The discussion was a mild debate relating to the "roles" (if you will) of women and men in the reality of todays' world vs that of even 50 years ago and the ideals we have been brought up with/created for the other fully expecting said ideals to bring forth the happiness we seek in relationships.  I had mentioned an article I recently read per the recommendation of a friend and my opinions relating to said article.  The discussion that ensued was both entertaining and disheartening-- but all in all very enlightening.  I truly enjoy hearing the opinions and perceptions of others... helps me remember that the world doesn't revolve solely around me and my thoughts.  In fact, more often than not, the ideas of others are as good if not better than my own.  And so... since the subject matter to follow is largely that of love and finding it, and since today is/was Valentine's Day, I thought it a most appropriate.  Enjoy!

Every female on this planet from age 3 to 103 who has ever seen a Disney movie has their own version of this story, starring themselves as the peasant/damsel/maiden/princess who needs saving from some source of evil in her life.  Whether it's an over protective father, an evil step-mother, a wicked witch, the pressures of their impending coronation and subsequent royal responsibilities or just simply feeling alone in this world, the hope provided by the thought of a "Knight in Shining Armor" it's a very real dream for us all.  Regardless of scenery and background the basic idea of the story is very generally the same for all of us as well:

He strides in atop his lofty white stallion, mane billowing in the breeze.  His skillfully wrought armor gleaming and silver in the bright light of the sun, not a hint of imperfection in his person or presentation. His stature embodies that of strength and power.  He is, by all standards, the very picture of perfection. Very clearly a true and proven hero.  I mean, look at him… how could he not be? And then, upon defeating the impending evil about to befall his fair maiden he sweeps her off her feet with a passionate kiss and they gallop away into the brilliant pink and orange glow of a perfectly setting sun where they will live happily ever after.

The problem with this fairy tale for 99.99% of us in this day and age is that it will never be anything more than just that: a fairy tale and never a reality.  The first problem being that armor itself is a very outdated fashion statement and undoubtedly (from the looks of it) VERY uncomfortable.  So, the likelihood of finding a man willing to put it on in the first place without being paid a pretty penny to do so (let alone get onto the back of horse while wearing it) are slim to none.  Second, in most parts of the world horses have become obsolete as a means of travel, thereby making it highly unlikely that he will “ride in” on a stallion… nevermind a *white* one.   Third, and by no means the last, is that women have become determined to be their own hero.  For whatever the reason, we feel a need to prove to the world that we are absolutely equal and in many ways superior, to our male counterparts which makes it incredibly hard for Knights to do their jobs--so they don't.  I’m all for “to each their own” and I wish all the best to those women for whom that mentality works, but I’m jumping the fence on this particular issue.

I’m not gonna lie.  I’ve had moments (ok ok, they were years) when, based on my own experiences with relationships, the last thing I wanted was for some man to come sweeping into my life with the arrogant audacity to think I needed him or that he could save my day. I dared any one of them to attempt defeating the demons and dragons in my life.  They’d been around so long they felt more like guardian gargoyles atop the perfectly constructed walls of the painstakingly built fortress specifically designed to keep me safe, than enemies set to destroy all evidence of hope and happiness in my life. 

No, sir—this damsel was far beyond the skills and ability of ANY knight and she didn’t need saving anyway… so there.  Hmph.  Reality check = Epic Fail. I’ve recently come to the absolute and unequivocal realization that I am but one half of an eventual whole.  I can’t be my whole world and everything in it.  I need balance.  I need structure.  I need guidance.  I need support.  I need to be held.  I need to be touched.  I need to accept that there are just some things that I’ll never be able to accomplish by myself—and that’s ok.  That’s how it’s supposed to be.  It’s ok to need someone.  It’s ok to ask for help.  It’s ok to accept help when it’s offered.

Having said that, I will be the first to admit that my favorite Disney/Pixar  animated feature of all time is Brave. Why, you ask?  No, it isn't just the bagpipes, Scottish accents, kilts and all around Celtic awesomeness of the story—though all those things are VERY high on the list of reasons to love it.  It’s because her happily ever after didn't include a Prince.  She knew she wasn't ready for that particular “happily ever after” and didn't allow herself to be bullied/forced into something she didn't want.  She stood up and said ‘no’.  I’m learning that ‘no’ is a very powerful word and there’s nothing wrong with using it when and how I choose.  Pleasing people isn't all about saying ‘yes’ to everyone about everything all the time.  More often than not, it’s ok to say ‘no’ and people won’t even get mad at you.  It’s taken me 30 years to realize this, and it’s been quite the eye-opening lesson.  Very liberating.

Now, circling back to Knights and Armor.  I have a very special soft spot in my heart for period films depicting the courtier days of old and truly wish I could have experienced them first hand.  I would obviously do so as Royal of course, because no one ever imagines being a serf when placing themselves in that historical moment of medieval fantasy.  I’d settle for Lady in Waiting or even Hand Maid—bottom line is I get to live in the castle, and that’s not open for discussion.  The point would be to experience it in all of its fairy tale splendor.  The lack of television, internet and smart phones would provide for actual intimacy and privacy.  The absence of over-stimulation from virtual sources would require the use of real and vivid imagination for entertainment and communication.  Children would stay outside from dawn to dusk without knowing boredom.  Star-crossed lovers would pass handwritten sonnets professing their undying love and devotion for each other through the passion of poetic verses, to be cherished by the object of their affection as tokens of true longing and desire.  People knew each other because they actually talked to one another—in person… like face to face.  Weird, eh?  Sounds blissful to me.  Yah, OK it was dirty  and they didn't have running water or hair dryers or Oreo cookies.  And you had to wait sometimes weeks instead of seconds to actually *get* one of these cherished messages from you true love, but medieval times were simpler and I long for simpler. Also, they had awesome clothes and it was ok to be a little curvy.  lol

Robin Hood is one of my absolute favorites when it comes to period tales.  I own several different film versions of the story, Russel Crowe's performance released in 2010 being my favorite by far.  I love the *idea* of this story and the dreamlike existence it provides me as an escape from my modern reality.  What does all of this have to do with Knights and Armor you ask?  I’ll tell you.  Brute strength, battle scars and marred armor.  If you don’t have a copy of Robin Hood starring Russell Crowe—find a copy and watch it.  Not only is it a fantastic movie but it proves my point (see also A Knights Tale—Heath Ledger carries armor well, lol) The best, bravest and most noble of men truly worthy of the title Knight (at least in my opinion) are those whose armor is scraped, scarred and tarnished with the clear evidence of true battle, which by all rights and definitions is as it should be.  A Knight is a Defender, not someone who stands idly by and allows for wrong to happen in his presence.  He is a Protector of his home, his land and his loved ones.  He is worthy of the title Sir, because of great personal achievements or public service. He is a Champion in the truest sense of the word. 

So while I value my independence and individuality, I look forward to meeting and knowing my other half.  I wait patiently for my Knight to ride in—not necessarily to save me or the day, but more to find the rewards and fulfillment he has sought after in his quest for his other half.  He will be my Defender.  He will be my Protector.  He will not be threatened by my independence or my individuality.  He will know with absolute certainty that I love to dance with my whole heart and if he doesn't already know how he will want to learn, because he knows nothing would make me happier than to dance in the sweet tranquility of his arms.  He will not feel the need to overshadow my personality.  He will not feel the need to belittle me or discredit my worth in public or private.  He will encourage me to always be better in the next moment than I was in the last.  He will hold me close when I need support.  He will allow me to fly when and how I need to without fear that I won’t return home.  He will tenderly push me toward my full potential as both a woman and a human being always insisting I do my very best and settling for nothing less than exactly that.  He will never doubt my abilities or my capabilities and he will remind me of them often.  He will constantly challenge me to improve upon myself and to bring others up with me as I grow and develop.  He will be my Champion in all things and I will be his.  We will laugh, cry, live, love and grow old together because when two people truly and honestly share things such as this in life, always pushing the other toward something better they will always come to find that something better in each other.

I look forward to the scars and tarnish of life he will carry on his Armor.  For ‘shine’, much like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder.  I will adore and marvel at my Knight and his Armor will truly shine for me—having not an inch without the scars and marks of true battle, it will shine bright as the sparks in my eyes when I think of him.  

And really, that’s all I need to live happily ever after in my fairy tale.   No big deal.  ;)

Princes & Knaves

WARNING:  The following story has been severely embellished and significantly altered (where necessary) for the sake of entertainment and dramatic effect.  Much like a Hollywood movie is loosely based on actual events, the following is loosely based on the irritatingly repetitive nature and eternally lethal ending of romantic relationships in the last 8 years of my life.  This particular story is a conglomeration of the experiences of all those years, the men that came with them and A LOT of fantasy all balled up into one (hopefully) very funny and entertaining story.  The only actual name I’ve used is my own, for obvious reasons.  Any others "characters" are a unique combination of the male flaws & fantasticness I've been exposed to in the last decade.  I drew from experiences with people I know, people I like, people I'm not too terribly fond of & some that I just plain can't stand the sight or thought of anymore.  The end result is my own special blend of completely perfect or completely imperfect cast of male characters that allow me to capture the full effect of whatever emotion or message I may be trying to convey at that point of the story.  

I’ve been working on this particular blog for a very long time; so any apparent or implied or supposed connection to a recent, specific and incredibly painful event in my life is purely coincidental and just goes to prove that, for whatever reason, I’m a magnet for the ridiculously comedic and excruciatingly painful when it comes to romance.  Did I include parts and pieces of said horrible event? Absolutely! But take caution: because you weren't actually there, you have no right to theorize or make accusatory statements of which parts and pieces of what you are about to read actually relate to that incredibly painful few days of my life.  I, personally, am happy with the end result of what I believe to be a funny, witty, entertaining story that many women will hopefully be able to relate to.  Please do not read anything into my words aside from me needing to vent about the overwhelming and excessive decay of basic morality in our oh-so-very contemporary society and the ails of being a single woman looking for real and honest love in the present century.  If you were me and had been through the things I’ve been through, you’d need to vent too and I appreciate your letting me share some of me with you.

P.S. If you want to talk movie rights for a screenplay… I’m all ears!  :o) 

And now… the Feature Presentation… 10... fade lights... 8... 7… cue chirping birds & whimsy music… 5… 4… fade in fairytale cottage… 2… and cue narration…

Someday, I hope to be socially adept enough to avoid the causes of such reminders which seem to be popping up more and more frequently as the years go on.  Until that time, I’m doomed to live the life of a 30-something single white female, lady in waiting, who is constantly second guessing herself, her worth and her motives, as well as that of all prospective males in the kingdom.  I seem to be mercilessly drawn by some unavoidable super-magnetic force of which I have no control over, to life situations which eerily resemble the painfully awkward and incredibly pathetic scenes from really bad romantic comedies.  Just for the record: I’m not a fan and I don’t want to play anymore.  I’ve been dumped on A LOT.  I’m not suggesting that I’m perfect and that all of the problems in all of my relationships are the fault of the Current Jerk, but I’m not a doormat for crying out loud!  I just want to hurry up and start my “life” being happy with someone who loves me and cares about me and wants to be with me for the rest of their lives because they know I’m still learning how to be me and I’ll get better at it as I go along… Is that so much go ask? 

Try as I might, the story is generally always the same:  I try to loosen up and have a good time, just being myself and not worrying about men or marriage or dating or even having a desire to be attached to anyone at all in any way, shape or form and I end up sitting on the cake.  Or accidentally tripping the waiter and we both end up covered in soup and salad as the rest of the restaurant (including whomever I may have been trying to impress with my super-modelesque cat-walk style entrance) watches, doubled over in laughter.  Or my personal favorite, heading to the ladies room to take care of business and inadvertently walking in on the best man (my date) lip-locked with the bride’s 17 year old sister. “Oh! Hi! Um… Awkward… I was just… because, I drank a lot of punch… and… I wasn’t expecting… you know what? I’m gonna go now.”  Really?  Again?  I thought this wasn’t going to be a problem anymore… Is this kind of torture absolutely necessary?  I mean REALLY?  He was cute and I really liked him and he played the part of the noble, chivalrous, gallant, honorable, handsome Prince Charming SO well...  Did he really have to turn out to be the cowardly, jealous, self-absorbed, deceitful Knave making his way from chamber to chamber robbing the handmaids of their virtue?  This is LAME!!!  This is SO not what I signed up for and I want my money back!  Why are they all Knaves!

So after numerous shattered and broken hearts, I give up… I’m done keeping brooms within arms length to sweep the pieces of my heart into a bowl and trying to glue them back together.  Clearly Princes and palaces are not for me and I resign myself to being content as the crazy old cat lady who lives in the rundown cottage at the end of the lane, makes the best homemade cookies in the world and doles out relationship advice to all of the much younger and more beautiful townsfolk like a gleefully retired love-pharmacist.  I’m like the grandmother they never had… or the mother they always wanted…  Problem is that I’m not old enough to be the crazy old cat lady. I bought the cookies at the store last week and just microwaved them to make them warm and yummy.  And the only reason I give advice to anyone about anything even remotely resembling a relationship is so I can live vicariously through their blissful ignorance at the pain and angst of any type of romantic involvement with the opposite sex in order to keep hope alive for myself that fairytales are real, love is alive & well and dreams really do come true.  Oh who am I kidding… that stuff only happens in books and movies.  Lies all LIES!!!

And then; a glimmer of unexpected light at the end of the tunnel.  This story appears to have the potential to be significantly different… A man I’ve seen many times before, but never truly noticed.  He’s tall and handsome.  His face is tender and generous yet filled with strength and honor.  His eyes are determined and hopeful and full of love.  His arms are strong and protective, full of comfort.  And then he smiles at me as he gallops past my little cottage on his beautiful stallion… me! There was no one else around that he possibly could have been smiling at… Try as I might to remain calm and collected, I couldn’t help but become completely hysterically giddy and wonder if I remembered to put on deodorant that morning…  He IS wonderful!  Wait--Shut up!  Is that a kilt?!?!  How could I have not noticed him sooner?  I’m hurrying to the gate, kicking the cats out of the way as I run… I start asking the neighbors… “Is this guy for real?  No double life? No girls in the closet? No lying, no cheating, no hidden motives, no deceit?  For real?  A really real MAN with morals and values?  Get outta town!!  I thought they were extinct!  Does he know my name?  Cuz… um… If he doesn’t... you could tell him and I wouldn’t be mad about it. P.S. Don’t forget to mention that I’m VERY available and I just happen to be completely amazing…”  Oh crap!  I gotta get rid of all these cats!

I decide to take a chance.  I can put myself out there. I’m strong enough to do that much… Just to see if the smile was a courtesy for the sake of politeness or if he’s really interested. 

So, with a little help from my Fairy Godmother, I slip on a beautiful gown that hugs me in all the right places & those fantastic glass slippers I bought last year (then never had a reason to wear) and come out of my cottage… shy but willing to try.  If he’s the real thing, then it just might be worth it to try to get his attention.  He glances my direction and I see him do a double take.  I can see him size me up.  He appears to like what he sees but he doesn’t want to appear too obvious.  He eventually makes his way to me after stopping to talk to EVERY neighbor along the way… meanwhile I’m trying to look like I’m not an atomic bomb of nerves ready to explode at any second.  Introductions, he kisses my hand—every bit the perfect gentleman.  We talk.  We walk.  We laugh.  We flirt.  I trip over my own foot and loose my balance trying to be graceful as we wander through the garden and he catches me—the comfort of his arms and the protection they give me is beyond amazing—please don’t ever let go.  Can’t we just stay like this forever?  Happily ever after begins now; ready, GO!

He helps me back to my feet and puts his arm around me to make sure I’m alright.  He gives me a reassuring squeeze just to make sure I know he is concerned.  There I am, in his arms and it’s a completely flawless fit; when he hugs me, my head rests perfectly in that little pillow of pectoral manliness between his collar bone and the ball of his shoulder. I steady myself and try to recover from the now lightheaded feeling I have because my heart is skipping every other beat and the room is spinning and I’ve got fireworks and birds and stars and a dozen other things buzzing around my head… I think I’ve got my feet back under me, but then I start to sway.  I’m feeling faint—this can’t be happening to me!  It’s all so completely perfect—so why are my legs suddenly toothpicks that won’t support my weight? And why are my joints apparently made of some sort of gelatin substance that won’t hold the toothpicks together the way they should?  Without thinking and without any real effort, his arm immediately responds to my involuntary movement and he pulls me back to his chest and holds me there.  I just fit perfectly right there.  Can this BE any more perfect?  I submit that it CANNOT! 

He smells like paradise; if nothing but the incredibly sexy and completely intoxicating amazingness of his cologne ever again entered my nostrils, I wouldn’t complain.  I try not to swoon… I try to maintain some kind of composure.  I can’t let him know that on the inside I’ve already planned out the wedding and I’ve moved on to decorating the palace he will build for me and naming our children; by the way, there will be 4--children.  That would scare him & and he would run away screaming for help… No, can’t have that… he can’t know… I have to be subtle… So I proceed—with CAUTION trying VERY hard to be nonchalant about the whole thing and simply thank him for helping me back up with an embarrassed smile.  I truly can’t stand the thought of getting hurt again.  My Knave wounds have been healing for a while.  Surely there’s plenty of scar tissue to keep me from sustaining the same injuries again (for what will seem like the hundredth time) and I think I’m ready to find out how thick my skin has become.  Think positive: he’s a Prince, he’s a Prince, he’s a really REAL Prince… and I’m the Damsel in Distress he’s been searching for.

Several weeks go by… there have been walks in the garden; always with my arm in his… tea in the parlor happens nearly every day now… dinner in town several times… he always brings the most beautiful flowers and kisses my hand when he greets me… such a gentleman… so perfect…

Tonight we’ve had the most beautiful candlelit dinner in the next village over… a place he’s been raving about for days… it’s one of his favorite places.  Dinner was beautiful.  We’re waiting for dessert to arrive and I excuse myself to the ladies room to powder my nose… I get all the way there and realize I’ve left my handbag and the powder in my chair.  I walk back to the table, slightly flustered because I don’t want to look like an idiot who can’t organize her thoughts properly when he’s around.  As I walk back through the door to the dining area, I see my purse—there on the table just where I left it… And then I see my Prince and I freeze.  I had no idea a face could do that… His face is apparently welded to her face because they don’t appear to be breathing and neither of them looked up when I walked in.  Begin internal monologue:

[GGGGGAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! FAIL!  WHAT are they DOING!!! I was gone less than 90 seconds and he’s already doing the waitress??  He hasn’t even kissed me like that yet and we’ve been exclusive for more than 2 months!  KNAVE! YOU HORRIBLE KNAVE!!! I hate men… I hate them ALL… Why did I ever think I could trust a man?  Not again… not AGAIN!  Why did I think he was any different than any other man on the planet!?  OH EM JHEE! Horrible vile and deceitful creatures ALL of THEM! They deserve to have their crotches infested with the fleas of a thousand camels and to be cursed with arms too short to scratch… die yucky man!  DIE!!!  My life is over… I knew better than to try… Liz + Boy = EPIC FAIL… it’s an infallible basic equation that has been tested time and time again; always with the same result… what was I thinking… what have I done?? I allowed my self to be vulnerable… I’ll never recover… what the crap!  Why is this happening?  What was HE thinking?!  WHAT was I THINKING?!  I don’t want THIS!  I’ve done this BEFORE!  I want to die… I want to cry… why do these things always happen to me? I have to leave.  I have to go. Now!]

I leave my purse on the table beside him.  I don’t need it bad enough to interrupt whatever is going on.  I’m so embarrassed! How could I have been so stupid!

I threaten the valet with his life and he brings me the pumpkin carriage, because he doesn’t want to die.  I’m racing toward home and I want to throw up.  I’m physically ill… It happened again… Prince Charming is Knave reincarnated… they’re all the same… it’s never going to change… my luck will NEVER change… why am I always drawn to the ultra-mondo-jerk-faced men?  Wait a minute… This isn’t Prince Charming’s fault… I misunderstood what I saw… I reacted the way that I did because I’m still distraught over the Knaves before him and what they did… The waitress was a witch… There was a spell… She tried to poison me!  That’s why I had to pee so suddenly!  That had to be it… Prince Charming would never do this!  Prince Charming… NO!  KNAVE… the way he attacked that poor girl and took advantage of her… Oh! I can’t control the pain… shards of my shattered heart tumbling out the carriage window, my tears washing them away as they hit the ground… Prince Charming? Knave? I can’t tell the difference anymore… the pain takes over and all I can see is red… and I start sobbing… it’s hopeless… I will forever be the little old cat lady.

[This is where any and all resemblance to reality as I know it stops.  I’ve never been past this point… I’m still waiting for this next part to actually happen in any form… Oh! Hollywood! How well you’ve brainwashed me to think that it actually will!]

But wait! After I rush out in my fit of rage, he pushes her away… The kiss lasted less than 3 seconds… It was an old girlfriend who had been in the pub next door and was totally hammered… she missed him and realized how wrong she’d been when they fought and broke up 5 years ago… she had been waiting for me to leave so she could pounce on him!  He thinks “You?!  I love Liz and I end up kissing YOU??!! What’s WRONG with me?!! What’s wrong with YOU!!! Why would think you could kiss me and everything would be better?!  How could I be so STUPID!  I should have seen you coming!!”  He completely screwed up… and he KNOWS it… He DID see me standing there in the doorway in the split second before I ran out… He rushes out after me but it’s too late… I’m already gone and I took the carriage… the valet is still concerned for his safety and so, doesn’t offer any help to my Prince.  But it’s too late… I’ve already crucified him in my mind… he has to find me… he has to try…  How will he explain to me what happened?  How will he make me believe him?!  He must find a way! 

Everyday he rides past my cottage… Everyday he begs me to come out but I refuse.  I don’t leave the house for several months… I let the house and my heart grow dark and cold.  I am so full of hate and bitterness that soon, I don’t recognize myself.  My heart is cold and I’ve become a reclusive haggard and gaunt looking old woman, no longer the beautiful girl he fell in love with.  He knocks on the door one day to inquire about his beautiful Cinderella… I tell him she’s gone, never to return but everyday he rides by and everyday I stare him down; the kiss replaying in my mind over and over.  The venomous memory of the kiss poisoning my heart day after day until I can love no more… I cry out in the dark from the nightmares… why me!?  Never again… I’ll never trust any man ever again.  The days and weeks go by… his daily ride past my cottage never failing.  I’m so blinded by my own pain from what was a complete misunderstanding, that I can’t allow myself to even imagine that he ever really cared for me.  Any such thought would only make me vulnerable to his lies and deceit.  I can’t let that happen again.  I won’t.  He doesn’t care about me.  He never did.  It was all just a show, and when he didn’t get what he wanted from me he turned to the first floozy he saw and got it from her.  He must be punished and I’m the only one who seems to know how evil he is.  He has the rest of the world fooled… but not me.  I know better.  I saw who he truly is with my own eyes.  Nothing can change that… nothing.  They’re all the same… all of them.  Little old cat lady… that’s who I’ll always be.  It’s safer for what’s left of my heart. 

One day he stops and slowly walks to my door.  He gently knocks and asks to sit with me in the garden.  Against my better judgment, I agree.  He asks again if I know the girl who used to live here, and again I tell him no.  He persists and looks at me very thoughtfully, as if he understands my pain.  As if he can see deep into my tortured soul.  And somehow he knows.  He knows that I’ve been there all along.  He knows that he should have spoken to me sooner.  He knows it too late, but he has to try.  I ask him why he is so persistent and why he keeps asking for someone he knows is gone.  “Why won’t you let her go, this girl you keep asking for?”  As he takes my hand in his, I see just how withered and gnarled with hatred I have become.  He speaks a soft and simple reply with such honesty and sincerity I don’t know how to respond.  “I love her.”  I have no idea what I was expecting him to say, but THAT wasn’t it.  I’m stunned.  I look up in complete disbelief and I’m suddenly horror struck.  And then, just as quickly as I felt the compassion it turns to skepticism.  Oh, he’s GOOD… he’s REALLY good… all this time and he still knows exactly what to say to make me THINK he’s Mr. Wonderful.  “Since the day I first took her hand and we walked through this garden, I’ve loved her with all my heart.  I hurt her terribly, and for that I’ll never forgive myself.  And so I must seek until she is found.  My heart belongs to her and she holds it with her still.”  My whole heart melts… His face changes; it softens… Suddenly he can see through the wrinkles of pain and the scars of hate… And I can see him for who he truly is… He IS Prince Charming… I hated him for what others had done… He leans in… he kisses me ever so gently… and I’m transformed into my beautiful young self…

And we live happily ever after… :o)