Last year at Beltane I was feeling a bit lost and most lonely. Things with Brisket had just fizzled out and I was left contemplating why. I have a habit of turning things around on myself and it wasn't because he was emotionally immature or using me (both things which are very true), rather it was because I am wretched, fat, dorky, and not worth his time.
Going into Beltane I was trying to change that perception of myself – repeating mantras that I may be flawed, but I am also beautiful, like a Persian rug with a mislaid thread. Telling myself that I am kind, clever, giving and fun, having much to offer in friendship and love. For whatever reason, the nice things are harder to believe about yourself, especially when you've just been spectacularly rebuffed by a 28-year old knob who lives in his mother's basement and works at a movie theater. Still, I practiced saying these things to myself, over and over.
When I arrived at Beltane, I sat for awhile in a corner, weaving myself a crown of flowers and repeating my mantras. And then he walked in.
I noticed him immediately and as cliché as it sounds, my heart palpitated a bit. I had never seen him at an Open before. He was dressed in all black, with a simple pentacle hanging around his neck. He looked muscular and fit, and he had deep dimples when he smiled. I was smitten.
Trouble was, I had no idea who he was and I was seriously lacking confidence to just go over and talk to some stunningly hot guy who randomly shows up to Sabbats. And yet, a little voice in my head argued with me, remember your mantras. Remember that you are worth his time and consideration. So I compromised. I would flirt with him from afar and make him come talk to me.
All through the ritual I gave him come-hither eyes. As we danced around the maypole, I would smile and wink at him when we came face to face while weaving our ribbons. When the drumming and dancing began, I made sure to wiggle my hips a bit more when I was near him. During the feasting I sat close-ish to him and hoped that he would overhear parts of my group's conversations and join in.
It didn't work. Even though we locked eyes several times and even though he always returned my smiles, he never spoke to me. I left Beltane feeling rejected again. I tried to comfort myself, acknowledging that I knew nothing about this person – he could be married, or have a non-pagan girlfriend, or be gay, or turn out to be a jerk. It was cold comfort, to say the least, and if you read my entry from last year, you can sort of tell how sad I was feeling.
I'm not going to draw the suspense out any longer: That hot guy turned out to be the Scotsman. I didn't see him again for another 5 months. In the interim, I learned that he had "asked" about me, but that he was going through a divorce -- making him off limits in my book. I promised myself I wouldn't flirt with him because he was emotionally scarred and probably not ready for a relationship. I would be nothing more than a rebound girl. I would behave and be only a friend to him. But when we met for the second time, it was like we were magnets. We couldn't keep away from each other.
I just woke up in his arms this morning, and I couldn't be happier.
===
This year the Scotsman and I were asked to be the May King and Queen for Beltane. I was ecstatic, to say the least. But the Scotsman was unsure – his personal coven had their Beltane the same day. "We can do both," I told him. "We can fit both in, the times don't overlap that much." I encouraged him to tell his high priestess that he had been asked to do this, sure that she would be pleased and proud and insist that he be the May King. His coven is so tiny (only 4 people) and they never start on time. If he just asked, maybe they would push their Beltane back an hour.
But the Scotsman was unsure and wanted to be loyal to his coven. As someone who is well-versed at scheduling lots of things into her life, this was frustrating to me. I so wanted to do this with him – it felt like a perfect circle to last year's Beltane.
But I held my tongue. I let him decide where he wanted to be for Beltane and make the call. We declined to be May King and Queen. And he planned on being with his coven and I planned on being with both the IP and his coven. I swallowed my disappointment.
Then yesterday, two hours before the IP Beltane began, the Scotsman called me and asked if he could come with me. I was simultaneously thrilled and frustrated. See, I thought. We will have time to do both.
Since we declined on being May King and Queen, the IP hadn't found another couple to take on the roles. So the May King and Queen would be decided by fate. During the ritual the single ladies lined up and drew stones from a pouch.
I drew the odd-colored stone.
Some things are meant to be. I obviously chose the Scotsman as my May King (how could I not?) and led him on a merry chase for my crown.
Happy Beltane, everyone.
Going into Beltane I was trying to change that perception of myself – repeating mantras that I may be flawed, but I am also beautiful, like a Persian rug with a mislaid thread. Telling myself that I am kind, clever, giving and fun, having much to offer in friendship and love. For whatever reason, the nice things are harder to believe about yourself, especially when you've just been spectacularly rebuffed by a 28-year old knob who lives in his mother's basement and works at a movie theater. Still, I practiced saying these things to myself, over and over.
When I arrived at Beltane, I sat for awhile in a corner, weaving myself a crown of flowers and repeating my mantras. And then he walked in.
I noticed him immediately and as cliché as it sounds, my heart palpitated a bit. I had never seen him at an Open before. He was dressed in all black, with a simple pentacle hanging around his neck. He looked muscular and fit, and he had deep dimples when he smiled. I was smitten.
Trouble was, I had no idea who he was and I was seriously lacking confidence to just go over and talk to some stunningly hot guy who randomly shows up to Sabbats. And yet, a little voice in my head argued with me, remember your mantras. Remember that you are worth his time and consideration. So I compromised. I would flirt with him from afar and make him come talk to me.
All through the ritual I gave him come-hither eyes. As we danced around the maypole, I would smile and wink at him when we came face to face while weaving our ribbons. When the drumming and dancing began, I made sure to wiggle my hips a bit more when I was near him. During the feasting I sat close-ish to him and hoped that he would overhear parts of my group's conversations and join in.
It didn't work. Even though we locked eyes several times and even though he always returned my smiles, he never spoke to me. I left Beltane feeling rejected again. I tried to comfort myself, acknowledging that I knew nothing about this person – he could be married, or have a non-pagan girlfriend, or be gay, or turn out to be a jerk. It was cold comfort, to say the least, and if you read my entry from last year, you can sort of tell how sad I was feeling.
I'm not going to draw the suspense out any longer: That hot guy turned out to be the Scotsman. I didn't see him again for another 5 months. In the interim, I learned that he had "asked" about me, but that he was going through a divorce -- making him off limits in my book. I promised myself I wouldn't flirt with him because he was emotionally scarred and probably not ready for a relationship. I would be nothing more than a rebound girl. I would behave and be only a friend to him. But when we met for the second time, it was like we were magnets. We couldn't keep away from each other.
I just woke up in his arms this morning, and I couldn't be happier.
===
This year the Scotsman and I were asked to be the May King and Queen for Beltane. I was ecstatic, to say the least. But the Scotsman was unsure – his personal coven had their Beltane the same day. "We can do both," I told him. "We can fit both in, the times don't overlap that much." I encouraged him to tell his high priestess that he had been asked to do this, sure that she would be pleased and proud and insist that he be the May King. His coven is so tiny (only 4 people) and they never start on time. If he just asked, maybe they would push their Beltane back an hour.
But the Scotsman was unsure and wanted to be loyal to his coven. As someone who is well-versed at scheduling lots of things into her life, this was frustrating to me. I so wanted to do this with him – it felt like a perfect circle to last year's Beltane.
But I held my tongue. I let him decide where he wanted to be for Beltane and make the call. We declined to be May King and Queen. And he planned on being with his coven and I planned on being with both the IP and his coven. I swallowed my disappointment.
Then yesterday, two hours before the IP Beltane began, the Scotsman called me and asked if he could come with me. I was simultaneously thrilled and frustrated. See, I thought. We will have time to do both.
Since we declined on being May King and Queen, the IP hadn't found another couple to take on the roles. So the May King and Queen would be decided by fate. During the ritual the single ladies lined up and drew stones from a pouch.
I drew the odd-colored stone.
Some things are meant to be. I obviously chose the Scotsman as my May King (how could I not?) and led him on a merry chase for my crown.
Happy Beltane, everyone.
Labels: Happy Things, Religious Natterings, Romance
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