Yesterday my friend Hedi texted me, telling me that if I really want to do something different this summer I should join the Medieval Club, and write an expose. For those of you who don't know, the Medieval Club at BYU is the butt of many jokes; as it looks like a club for those enamored of the fantasy genre and whenever they have events they dress up as if they were part of a Renaissance fair. I laughed out loud as I read this suggestion, and then texted her back that I would have to change how I dressed. She added to this, how I spoke. She said "You could do it!" I seriously considered it. "The Semester I Joined Medieval Club." What a title. It could be a hit. I really could do it.
And then I thought, what if I actually make friends with these people? What if I connect with them and build real relationships? Instead of it being a social experiment; getting the in for the story, what if they actually begin to meet my emotional needs?
That is what I am embarrassed to admit. The thought that I was afraid of connecting with another human being. Because of who they were. Because what would that say about me if I connected with someone like that? As if me making more friends would be detrimental. As if a friendship with someone would reflect poorly on me. In fact, I think that me being afraid of building meaningful relationships with fantasy geeks really says more about me than it says about them.
I am so disappointed (with myself).
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That would be the romantic comedy part of this story--- you are doing this not for real, but your husband is in that club, Betsy. He loves you. He is waiting.
Go to him, let him embrace you in his arms, clad in a hand-spun tunic, and protect you with his aluminum sword. Let him feed you bread with honey on it, and drink grape juice with 5% juice and high fructose corn syrup as the leading ingredient. Let him hold your hand with his grubby hand, but don't worry. Just because he doesn't wash after doing his business, doesn't mean they're covered in germs that have cultivated into a remarkably contagious colony of e-coli. There were no germs in the Renaissance!
And at night, he will play songs for you on his lute outside your window.
And for anniversaries, he will reenact battles for you.
And you will name your sons Gawain and Athelstain.
Sounds incredible, no? I still might do it, actually. For a week or something.
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