...or perhaps blame it all on PMS. Late I have been dying for romance. I'd give anything to be swept off my feet, carried off to the knights castle, be told he can't live without me, must have me, I'm the center of his universe, et cetera, ad nauseum. I'm not normally like this. I know my value in the universe, thank you very much, I don't normally need someone to prop my up emotionally. My usual requests for the knight is that he carry out the litter boxes for dumping and take care of the ookier jobs on the car, that sort of thing. But the past few weeks have been nuts. I keep wanting to make pastry and embroider things and read the old school classic romances. And the weepies, someone please turn off my faucet!
Why yes, I have been having trouble standing myself.
It doesn't help that I have adopted the most mushy, romantic role play character ever, and she has been turned upside down. She had been nearly engaged, on the verge of marrying her childhood sweetheart, when his player honestly admitted he couldn't play the sweetheart anymore, it just was not going to happen. No one else wanted that character, so the sweetheart was summarily killed off. This after for the past six months she has been adapting to suddenly losing her hearing, having surgery to fix a particularly nasty burn scar, having to re-grow out a shaved head, dealing with PTSD and depression, and thinking the feds were after her. Oh, the tragedy of it all, we top the soap operas every day. She and I have been mourning for weeks, right through PMS week. No wonder I've been crying buckets.
Enter my husband. My wonderful, wonderful husband.....
He took a look at the situation and noted that the sweetheart's player was also role playing relationships with two other women, who were not only whiny and needy characters, they were also whiny and needy players. Now I have never been know to be all that whiny and needy a player, I have a family, a support system, other interest and hobbies and so on, my life does not revolve around role play. From the sound of it, theirs does. And the player of the sweetheart has the love of his life at home, it's not like they're going to get anywhere. Not only that, but his one character is involved with both their characters, and the character he plays with them is a rough, rude, and crude street rat who's idea of romance is unusual at best.. They are never going to get what they want from him, either of them. But they will whine and cry and drive everyone nuts about it.
Anyway, the husband's conclusion was that, to use a cliché, that the squeakier wheels were getting the grease, and that I have been getting shafted, so he came back with "Kill the sweetheart off, once your character is over the grieving process I'll have my character fall in love with her, and we'll have all the romance and dedication she, and you, could ever want." His next moves were to take me to Barnes & Nobel so I could pick up copies of "Emma", "Sense and Sensibility", and "Pride and Persuasion", further assuaging my need for romance, to look the other way when I made calico book covers (because I am a fabric slut, any excuse to spread around the calico), and to take out the litter box.
Call me a romantic, but I think my husband in wonderful.