Knights and Dragons

ancient animal antique architecture

A distant sound of thunder woke the Wizard from his sleep. He sat up, stretched, yawned, and looked out the castle window. Dawn was just approaching. Clear skies, a purple hue on the horizon, no sign of rain.

The woman in his bed mumbled and frowned, she was stirring from her sleep.

“Sshh.” The Wizard said as he kissed his fingertip and touched her forehead. The woman sighed and eased back into her slumber, a smile on her face. He looked at her for a moment, her hair askew, accentuating and highlighting her face. She was young, she was beautiful, and for this moment in time, she was his. He traced her naked shoulders with his eyes, absorbing her every tiny detail. He followed the curve of her shoulder down to the swell of her breasts, hidden under the covers. She stirred slightly. He sighed softly to himself and lazily scratched his beard.

The Wizard slowly got out of bed and threw on his cloak. The sound of thunder still echoed in the valley below and reverberated off of the mountains. “Time to see what this is all about,” he thought.

He left the bed chambers quietly, padding across the stone floor into his private study. The Orb of All Seeing sat waiting on its pedestal, gleaming in the first rays of the morning sun. The Wizard walked up to the Orb and gently ran his fingers over it. Gently caressing it, touching its smooth shape. “Much like that woman’s face,” he thought. A smirk played upon his lips.

“Show me.” He said. The Orb of All Seeing lit up, coming to life. Swirls of color danced inside the sphere, lightning played upon its surface. Dazzling flashes of light bathed the Wizard, engulfing him. He bent forward, closer to the Orb, scanning the pictures that flashed before his eyes. Seeking.

No, not that one. No, not that one either. “Ah, there.” The swirls and colors solidified into an image. “That’s the one.” The Orb slowed and stopped, showing the Wizard what he wanted to see. Many miles below, deep down in the valley, sat a castle. A black flag hoisted high and waving proudly from its highest parapet. Outside the castle walls, the moat surrounded the castle, a deterrent for those who would try to invade it; the drawbridge was up.

On the other side of the moat, the riders were approaching. This was the sound of the thunder. “They are coming out in force this time,” chuckled the Wizard. From where he gazed, the thunder was dull, mute. But down there, it must have been deafening. “Quite impressive,” he thought. “They are truly serious.”

In front of the castle the riders stopped. Sunlight reflected off of their polished armor, dazzling to the eye. Over two hundred men sat upon horse, their war cries filling the air. As one, they all raised razor sharp swords and incredibly strong lances to the sky. Their colorful shields gripped and ready for battle. It was truly a sight to behold.

The castle remained quietly defiant. No archers on the ramparts. No lowering of the drawbridge to meet the knights in battle. No sound of trumpets or drums calling for battle. Not a soul stirred.

The Wizard concentrated intently, focusing on the men on horseback. He could see some of their faces now. Helms up, eyes flashing. They were angry. Defiant.

“We know you have her in there! Bring her out! Give the maiden back to us, you vile bastard!” One of them cried. Cheers and shouts of agreement accompanied him.

“It’s the same as last time,” the Wizard thought. “Always the same. It’s sad, really. Almost pathetic. Predictable.” A maiden would disappear from the neighboring kingdom, and inevitably, the knights would show up to this particular castle, demanding her back. The end results were always the same too, the Wizard had seen this scene play out many times before. And yet, something was different this time. There was an energy about this particular scene that the Wizard hadn’t felt in a very long time. Something was going to happen this time, something different. That excited him. “Perhaps I need to go down there and take a closer look,” he thought.

“What’s going on? What are you doing?” The woman stood in the doorway to his study, draped in a bearskin blanket. She was rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She was beautiful standing there, yawning.

“Nothing much to concern yourself with, my dear. But if you must know, the knights are down at the castle again, wanting their maiden back.” He smirked as he said this.

“Another maiden is missing? When did this happen? Do you have any idea of who it is?” She asked.

“Of course I know who the maiden is. She went missing last night. The maiden they are looking for is you.” The Wizard pointed at her and laughed.

“Me?! The maiden? They are looking for me?!” She asked, perplexed.

“Of course, darling. And I’m sure they think you were taken against your will. All maidens are taken against their wills, didn’t you know that? And taken by none other than the Black Knight, no less.” The Wizard smiled.

“That’s not what happened!” She protested.

“Of course not my love, but try telling them that.” He pointed to the knights in the Orb. “Lord knows what would happen if they ever thought that you went willingly, enthusiastically even.”

She rolled her eyes and breathed a sigh of exasperation.

“Go get dressed. I want to go down there and get a closer look,” the Wizard said. “Something big is about to go down, something different, and I want to be there and see what happens. I want you to come with me and bear witness.”

The woman turned and went back to the bed chambers to put on her clothes. The blanket hung low off her back, showing her skin, the curve of her spine. The Wizard watched for a moment in admiration. He then went back to studying the images in the Orb. “Oh yes, something big is about to go down. I can feel it,” he thought.

To be continued….

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Do You Even “Like” Women? Part 2

woman sitting on bench
Got Your Fucking Attention, Didn’t I?

Larryzb commented on my post: Of course, the question arises: Do women even know how to love men these days? Have you taken that one up previously?

And I responded with: My experience recently is that they can and do, just not in ways that we as Men want or expect.

Now that I think about it, I haven’t taken this one up previously. So I’m going to give my two cents on it now.

My response is what I have seen, and yes, I’m ripping off Rollo. Why? Because he’s right. Women can’t love men the way we as men want them to. For a lot of years, most of my life even, I’ve wanted women to love me the way that I love them. Idealistically. Passionately. Even fatalistically. I wanted them to take a bullet for me. I wanted them to cry to me their undying love for me. I wanted them to kill themselves for me. Because at least for me, back in the day, I would have done all of that for them. And more.

Pathetic? Yes. Sad? Yes. Sad but true. And then I woke up.

Women will never be able to love us the way that we want them to. That doesn’t mean that they can’t love us. They can only love us how they love us. That’s a shitty answer, I know. It’s not what you want to hear, but it’s the truth. And I know that it’s a kind of circular answer too. They can only love us how they love us. Guys, I’m not a woman, and I can’t read their minds. I don’t know “how” they love us per se, only that they do.

For me, I’m big on affection. I like to touch and be touched. I’m sure there’s a “system,” or a book somewhere that will happily label whatever that means. Oh! Well Rob, that means you’re…

I don’t give a fuck. I just know that I like to touch and be touched. That’s one of the ways that I know that I’m being loved. When a woman fixes me a meal. That’s another way that I know she loves me. It shows me she cares and that she cares about my well-being. It really shows up when she takes the time to make something that I really like. It shows that she put thought into it.

Oh, and time. She may not have a fuckton of it, but if she makes it a point to spend time with me, that shows me that she loves me.

Of course, terms of endearment and words of affection are nice too. Calling me baby, is one. Calling me Daddy is even better, but that’s for another post at another time.

Sometimes when she either puts her head in my lap and puts her arms around my waist, or curls up on me, like a cat, that’s a good one. Even when she puts one or both of my legs to sleep.

Do women even know how to love these days? Yes, I believe so.

I see it in their eyes when they look at me. The sparkle, the shine, the shimmer. Whatever you want to call it.

I hear it in her voice when she answers the phone when I call her. All breathless and whatnot, like she just ran a marathon to grab the phone. And of course, she answered it on the first ring.

Sometimes she’ll send me YouTube videos of some sappy love song with a comment of, “Read the lyrics.”

Or she’ll just text me out of nowhere, “Thinking of You.” With the little kissy emojicons of course.

Or she’ll shave my head for me. Because that pleases me and I like that shit. Or she’ll shower with me and wash my back and the rest of my body. Or she’ll give me a full body massage, even though I know she’s dead tired from a long day at work. And she won’t even bitch, not once.

Or she’ll bring me a beer while we are sitting on the couch, watching a movie. Without me even asking her to do it. Or she’ll whip me up a mudslide.

Sometimes it shows up in her urgency to fuck the living shit out of me. Or the blowjobs. Goddamn..The blowjobs. But Rob! That’s not love! That’s lust! Fuck off, I don’t care.

There’s all sorts of ways that women love us men. It’s just not the way that we want or expect, or even hope for sometimes. She just does it her way, the only way that she knows how.

When we can let go of our expectations that they will love us the way that we love them, life gets interesting. You get to see that they can, and do, love us. You just have to drop the expectations and let them show and tell you in their own ways.

That’s all I’ve got for you on that one. I just know the one’s that show up in my world love me, in their own ways, even if it’s not what I wished for, hoped for, or expected. I guess I just roll with it and assume that they do. That’s enough for me at least.

I guess I could do worse. I could tell myself that they don’t love me, that they don’t know how to love me, and that they are incapable of loving me. But what good is that? Where’s that going to get me? Masochistic, I tell you.

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A Little Diddy About Jack And Diane…

man and woman shaking hands

*Cues up John Cougar*


A tragi-comedy in three acts:

Act One

Jack – “Hey Hotstuff!”

Diane – “Lol”

Act Two

Jack – “Hey Hotstuff!”

Diane – “I’ma married woman! Harassment!”

Act Three

Jack – “Muh feelz!”


Jack is a guy I met around a year ago. He’s a good guy, a nice guy. If I had to guess, I would say that he’s in his early 50’s. Maybe 51 or 52. He’s a hard worker, good with his kids, in good physical shape, and he’s divorced. He’s also blue-pilled pretty bad.

Jack calls on me from time to time, just to catch up, shoot the shit, and talk guy stuff. When it comes to women, Jack doesn’t really understand them or their nature, and that’s okay for Jack. Any time he wants to get serious with me, he brings over a twelve pack of my favorite beer.

The other day he called and asked me if he could come over for a bit and I told him sure. He showed up about an hour later with a twelve pack in hand and I could see the fire that engulfed him from the street. Imagine a six foot man standing at your door, completely engulfed in flames, smiling, and holding a twelve pack of beer, and that would be Jack.

I invite him in, the cat’s caught scent of the fire that enveloped him, and they headed for greener pastures. My cat’s ain’t nobody’s fools. They know a man who is burning when they see one. I wondered briefly if his flames would singe my carpet, but by then it was too late. He was already half way up the stairs.

We sat on the couch and he handed me the twelve pack. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on that first beer. There’s nothing quite like that first taste of an ice cold beer after a long day, and I looked forward to it. I pulled a bottle out of the box, twisted off the cap, and took that first long pull. Yep, that’s it. That’s the stuff.

I must have been enjoying the beer so much because I totally missed what Jack was telling me.

“Come again?” I said.

“I said, I’m in a bind. I don’t know what to do. I got sideways with my boss, and now I think I’m in deep shit.” Jack replied.

“What happened?” I asked.

“I think Diane is gunning for me. I think she wants to fire me.” Jack said.

Now here’s where it gets interesting. Jack has been working at his current job for under a year. He’s a fairly new employee. It just so happens that I know his boss, Diane. Well I know of her. She ran in the same circles as my ex-girlfriend did. That’s how I first got to know Diane. From what I remember of her, she seemed pretty decent. She has been at her company for a few years, worked her way into management, and from what I remember her telling me, she cares about her subordinates very much. I didn’t take her for someone with an axe to grind or someone that is a power tripper.

I need to back up for just a moment.

A couple of months ago, Jack and I had a conversation over the phone. I remember him telling me how much he liked his job, and how everybody was really friendly, almost like they were friends. I also remember Jack telling me that when he would talk to Diane, he would walk into her office at the end of his day, and he would say something like, “Hey hotstuff! How’s it going?” Or “Hey good lookin’, what’s cookin’?” According to Jack, she would laugh and smile, and then they would discuss whatever it was that they needed to discuss. I remember telling Jack, that you’re co-worker’s aren’t your friends, and that it probably wasn’t a good idea to be addressing Diane, his boss, with those terms of affection. You never know how someone will take it.

Apparently Diane wasn’t too keen on Jack calling her “hotstuff.”

He found that out a few days before he got a hold of me when he was called into the big bosses office. Diane and the big boss were there waiting for him. From what Jack told me, Diane felt that his remarks were inappropriate and it made her uncomfortable. I believe the term “sexual harassment” was mentioned. Diane mentioned other things like “being a married woman” as well.

Obviously Jack ignored my warning and my advice, and here he was, facing the music. Needless to say, Jack was completely caught off guard with the turn of events. He apologized profusely to both bosses and explained that it was a big misunderstanding. He wasn’t trying to hit on her, it was a line or something from some movie that he had watched and had liked. He really meant no harm. He thought everybody was friends and that bantering around like that was something that friends did.

Apparently the big boss was satisfied with Jack’s answer and explanation. I guess he saw it as a big misunderstanding too. Supposedly Diane was good with it as well. Everything could go back to normal.

I asked Jack, “Was there any punitive action taken against you? Were you written up or suspended? Any “sensitivity training” or sexual harassment training? Anything like that?”

“No, not at all.”

“So what’s the problem then?”

The problem is, Jack got his feelings hurt. He’s pissed off. I get it. I totally understand it. I’ve been there, years ago. Jack is uncertain of his future with his job, he’s not sure where he stands, and he’s paranoid. He’s paranoid that Diane actually isn’t okay with things. But here’s the thing, remember how I mentioned that I know Diane? Yeah, she’s not the type to carry a grudge. I’m not one hundred percent certain on this, but I’m more than reasonably certain, that she isn’t “out to get” Jack.

Jack isn’t making things better. He’s the type of guy that thinks of things in very binary terms. Everything is either black or white with him, so when he wants to “just keep it professional,” that’s what he does. You ask a question, bam, you get an answer. Bang, trapdoor shut.

He mentioned that Diane has tried a couple of times since the meeting to engage him in conversation. He told me he wants to “keep it professional” now. Diane asks him, “How’s your day?” Jack replies with, “It’s fine,” turns his back on her and walks away. Diane mentions doing stuff with her husband and kids and asks Jack what he’s doing for the weekend, Jack replies with, “Let’s just keep it professional, I don’t want to talk about it.” Then he shuts his mouth. One of Jack’s problems is that he’s wanting to deal with Diane as if she was a man. He wants to logic his way out of this. It doesn’t work like that though. Not with most women. One of Jack’s biggest mistakes is that he assumes that she thinks like he does. I tried to get him to see otherwise.

I mentioned to Jack that it didn’t sound to me like Diane was “out to get him.” If anything, it sounded more to me like she was trying to make a peace offering with him. She was holding out an olive branch. From what I remember about Diane, she likes harmony, she’s a nurturer. If Diane was angry or repulsed by what had happened, I would imagine that instead of trying to engage Jack, she would try to keep her distance from him and would most likely be very cold to him.

Jack didn’t want to hear that though. Apparently he would rather be a martyr. A martyr for his feelings. That’s why he’s on fire. That’s why he gets to burn.

I told Jack, “Hey man, fuck your feelings. Nobody gives a shit about martyrs. You’re worried that Diane is gunning for you? I don’t think she is, but if you keep doing that butthurt thing that you’re doing, she is going to come after you eventually, and it’ll probably be for insubordination. You have to let that shit go. Don’t do it to kiss Diane’s ass, or grovel to keep your job, but do it so that you can enjoy getting back to work and doing your job. You keep doing this cold, “keeping it professional” thing that you’ve got going on and you’ll create your own self-fulfilling prophecy.”

Jack said, “Maybe one day, but not today.”

I replied, “Sooner or later you need to let it go and get back to being friendly, but not necessarily friends. Better sooner than later though.”

After that, Jack thanked me for my time, I thanked him for the beer, which I had drank a few of them by that time, and I saw him out. I last saw him climb into his car and drive away. Nothing like watching smoke billowing out of a car window and a man on fire driving.

Maybe he’ll take my advice, maybe not. Either way, I got free beer out of it and Jack gets to burn.

“A little diddy ’bout Jack and Diane, two American kids bein’ cogs in corporate-land…”

*Fade John Cougar*

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