A New Nickname

I, A. Prog., am about to share with you a nickname and a story.

The nickname is "Knight in Shining Armor". This nickname has been given to me by four different people separately.

Why? They say that's what my personality is like. They say I rush to rescue a woman in need, and I save the damsel from distress.

But a horrible truth comes with this.

I, like the knights, must ride off into the sunset without my princess. Why? I treat women like princesses. They believe themselves to be so after a while, and maybe they think they can do better than a lowly knight. They leave, searching for their Prince Charming. Who they usually believe they've found.

Let me give you my examples. I feel terrible at the moment, so bear with me here.

1. Brittany
Not a tale of loss or regret. Brittany and I met in a hallway in Central Church one night when I was around 13 years old. She was a year older than me. Our parents had brought us there thinking that we had youth group to go to, but we didn't. We were the only ones who showed up. But our parents had to go to Bible study, so they left us alone in the hallway.
For the next two hours, she talked to me about all different subjects - reading, movies, her family, life in general, love - her leading the conversation. I'm only talkative when I'm typing, you know. I was listening. I like to listen. It's a lot better than talking, in my opinion.
Eventually the topic strayed to personalities. She was naming off the different personalities of people she knew. I asked her what she thought mine was like. After thinking for a moment: "You're like a 'knight in shining armor'," she said, giggling about it a little bit. "What? No I'm not!" I responded, pleased, yet embarrassed. What could make her say this? "Yes, you are," she replied. "You care about everything I've told you, and you hardly even know me. I'm betting you'd ride out to my rescue if I ever needed it!" She said more, but that's all you need to hear.
I never spoke with her again. Not by choice - being different ages put us in separate rooms. And I never had any other opportunities to talk to her. Not that it mattered too much, I didn't really have a crush on her anyway, but I did find out later that she'd had a crush on me.


2. Emily
She was everything to me. It almost killed me later. The experience turned me into what I am - sensitive, caring, yet afraid of abandonment. I used to be hyper, crazy, and somewhat dirty-minded. I worked all that out of myself, trying to better myself for whoever came along; trying to fix the flaws I thought I had that made her abandon me.

Emily I met when I was 9. We met in a youth group called Pioneer Clubs in Central Church. She was shy,  alone, afraid of friendship, almost. I never knew why. I looked at her, and I saw someone who needed to be cared for, and I was determined to help her.

After a while, she told me she liked me, and it started a wonderful friendship of the deepest variety. Yes, I know, we were only nine. But listen. Nine-year-olds can have just as meaningful conversations with each other as two twenty-year-olds can, and I'm guessing it works with any age.

We talked whenever we could, but remember - we were only together for a couple hours on Sundays and Wednesdays. I looked forwards to those days, dreaming about when I would see her next.

And then she left. Her family packed up and moved to Florida. And I never stopped thinking about her. She was often (not always, I'll admit) on my mind.

She came back a couple years later. But she had changed. No longer did she feel the same way about me, and I could sense it. But I was still hopelessly bound to her. I was younger then - I had never felt heartbreak. I didn't fear it like I do now.

For three to four years, I lived this way, seeing her two nights a week, doing everything I could with her. I was loving it. I was sure that when she started dating, I'd be first on the list.

When she gave me the nickname "Knight in shining armor" was during a day long youth retreat called "Planet Wisdom". She gave the nickname to me over lunch, as she, I, and one of her friends (whose name I will not mention) ate at Fazoli's. She was joking about what I was like. That was one of the best days of my life. So much fun... so many memories made.

Then one day I found out through her gossiping friend (the one I mentioned earlier (she was actually a pretty fun and nice person)) that Emily liked someone, but didn't want to say who it was. I was sure it was me. It wasn't. I found out later, when she'd been with him a long time. She'd never told me. "I thought the whole church knew by now," were her exact words. She hadn't even considered me enough of a friend to tell me in person.

That was when I first experienced the pain which is heartbreak. I don't cry much - maybe tears come to my eyes, but I won't let them fall. Or if they do, I won't shake or sob. I've only cried a few times since then. Only a few times in the past... what... six years? But I cried. I hadn't known such pain.

What had she gotten from me? Well... I told you what she was like when I met her. The last time I saw her, she was confident, brave, outgoing, and willing to speak her mind. So much unlike the Emily I met. Did I help her change? I think I did. And then she left me - for her Prince Charming. As indeed he was - Tall, handsome, nice, friendly, funny, charming. Never without a smile. Never angry.

I haven't seen her since I was 14. Our family stopped going to church - something I always regretted. I never got to talk with her again.

I found her picture a few months ago. I won't post it here, but she's still looking as beautiful as ever. She's going to college now. Studying to be a teacher, I think. Playing softball. And her Prince Charming is nowhere to be seen.

I had come to her rescue, and saved her from her problems, and she had left, not needing me anymore.

For the next five years or so I kept the pain to myself, not allowing myself to cry, thinking it would pass. It didn't. I still loved her. Still I held it in.
Until I couldn't hold it in any longer.

Late one night, working late on the computer, and watching a movie, I exploded into poetry, my thoughts flowing through the keyboard to the screen. A small bit of it is close to the beginning of this blog.
And I cried as I typed. It felt so good to feel again after hardening myself against emotion.

But she's gone to me. I still love her. I may never see her again. At least I don't love her the same way I did - at least I can separate myself now. I had feared I never would.


3. Ninjette


I'm using nicknames for these last two. They're pretty recent, all things considered.

Ninjette I met online, having not an opportunity to meet anyone in any other manner. Ninjette was sweet, caring, and understanding. And hurting from a painful breakup that she couldn't tell anyone about.

Yet she told me. And I listened. She appreciated my listening. I helped her get through it - her first real breakup, she said. She had loved him. And he'd treated her like trash. What could I do but listen and try to help?

When she gave me the nickname, we were having a conversation and teasing each other, although later she did say that that was what my personality was like. I was fearing my power would go out, and it might be a few days before she heard from me. She wrote back and said she hoped it didn't, because she thought she might cry. I responded with:
"Forsooth, milady, I shall watch the lines of power, that I might repair aforesaid lines withest my lance, that thou mightest not be too greatly grieved!"
When she wrote back, she gave me the nickname.

This relationship ended badly, too. She never went as far to say she loved me, but she said she had a crush, and I took it to mean she actually loved me. I could sense she didn't feel the same way, however. And then to find out she'd found someone else since she had no commitment to me - that kind of hurt. She's still with that person. He's a nice guy, I guess.

What I had was really more of a crush on her, but I do love her still... I love her in the brother/sister way.


4. Spazzie


Yes, still with the nicknames. Spazzie I met online playing a game called Evony. She read this blog (what there was of it then) and fell in love with me. It's too soon to say much, but I'll say what I can.

Spazzie was/has been wounded deeply by many people. You can read some of how in her blog. Click here to go there.

She needed love - someone to hold her, care for her. I gave her the best I could, and learned to love her in the process.
The more I listened, the more she loved me. She was planning to marry me - I said I'd be a few years in getting to visit her, and she said that was fine, that she'd wait. And I loved that. I made her promises that I'd never leave her - she had a deep fear of abandonment, just like me.

She gave me the nickname when I said, "I'm no Hercules," and she responded with, "I don't want a hercules, I want a knight in shining armor."

I was crazy about her. I still am, to be honest... I gave her every bit of me I could. There was no request she could have made that I would have turned down. She had my heart; my very soul was hers.
She was my first official girlfriend. I asked, and she lovingly, happily, excitedly accepted.

But she drifted away. She ceased to say she loved me. She gave me less and less of her time, and most of what she did give me was tainted with multitasking. Multitasking. She couldn't talk to me without wanting to do something else. She fought with me constantly, and was unwilling to make up. It was always I who tried to fix things. And she tried so hard to hurt me. She didn't seem to realize how badly I was hurting already. I sensed there were things she wasn't telling me - important things I ought to know about that she was keeping hidden.

And then... Fast and thick the blows fell. First she told me to stop saying I loved her. That came as a shock. She claims it was to not hurt me. But that hurt me worse than she knows.

Next I found out that she's been lying to me constantly. I have a hard time trusting people, and she'd earned mine completely. Anything she'd say I'd believe. And she was the first one to ever earn my complete trust. She says it was to keep me from worrying that she'd lie about how she felt. But I like worrying - you can't care for someone if you don't know something's wrong. And I know she's lied about more than that.

After that I find out that the entire time she's drifted away, she's grown closer and closer to a man named Scott. Spazzie is 18. I'm 20. Scott is 25. She says it wasn't just me she withdrew from, she says she withdrew from every person in her life... Except him.
She's done more with Scott than she's ever done with me, and she's known him only one third as long. And for some reason she got angry that it could hurt me. Even after admitting she had feelings for him.
She sort of cheated on me. Funny thing is, she claims women don't cheat - it's only men. This proves her wrong.

Finally, it turned out that she felt so little of a commitment to me that she felt fine with wearing something extremely revealing to a local club. Why? She liked it when guys hit on her. She liked the attention they gave her. She called it an "ego boost". So it was. But if she'd loved me the way I love her, she would have worn something more modest and said, "Sorry boys, I'm taken".

I've forgiven her for everything she's ever done to me - except these four things. They're too painful.

Unlike anyone else, she went further than "knight in shining armor". On April 27th, she went further. "You're no knight," she told me. "You're a kind prince... noble and honest... fair and gentle..." That was right before she said I wasn't the one for her.

I've been so wounded. I need time to heal - or I need love to fix it. She still can, but I'm not even sure she wants to.

I am a Knight in Shining Armor... Fighting valiantly to protect those in my care... And wounded in battle... Okay, so I don't really feel that way... Oh, well.

I may not feel like a knight in shining armor, but I do my best to live up to the name.