If there is anything I really miss by having gone full-on hermit, it’s friendly flirting. You know — the kind that isn’t intended to go anywhere (although it might, provided you are single; or, it might even if you’re not single and that kind of person). It makes you feel good when someone tossing you a wink or says something suggestive, or you catch a double entendre in the air while talking to someone. It adds the fun kind of tension to your life as you wonder how much they meant by what they said. It was probably nothing, but the fact that it was said to you… hmm.
I won’t be winning any beauty pageants. Any good looks I had in my youth have faded and fluffed up. I have no illusions that I’d be tossed a suggestive look or have anything overt directed at me these days in terms of conversation unless I paid for it (which I most assuredly wouldn’t do), so this “missing” is very likely firmly in the realm of fantasy. It’s probably the product of being a cantankerous and dirty old man who misses his wayward youth as one of the few goths in his city “back in the day” (c. mid-80s). So, I won’t be rushing out to change my asocial existence to experience any such thing because I’d be destined for disappointment.
Tangent time. Fasten your seat-belts (apologies to B. Davis).
I’m still thinking about my piece Silver. Though it is flash fiction, I think it warrants a mini-postmortem.
As I started writing it, I envisioned the main character to be more of a baobhan sith (kind of a cross between a succubus and a vampire in Irish/Scottish folklore) than anything else, but realized as I was writing that was just falling into typical tropes. I’m all for subverting tropes when I recognize one rising up in my writing. Girl monsters are always hyper-sexualized vampires and succubi.
So I got to thinking and here is your homework for the day: Why is it that it is so rare for a woman to be a lycanthrope? Off the top of my head, I can’t think of a single female werewolf in literature or movies. It seemed like a rule I could pervert ever so slightly, and so she was a were-kin. But only hinted at.
So why did she allow herself to be taken out on a night she knew she might turn? Maybe she didn’t think about it. Maybe he “abducted” her, promising to drive her home, but taking her to a lake instead. Does it matter? I decided it didn’t matter, as that was not part of the story from the bookend I selected.
Moreover, she knew he was a passing phase. She might be horny, but she had no illusions of love and she was willing to scare him off, knowing he was impermanent. She wasn’t okay with killing him, which suggests ethics and control.
Maybe one of these days I’ll get off my monstrum and fey fixation. Seems unlikely, as I have always been enamored with monsters and dark castles with things that go bump in the night.