Sir

Sir was all that she wanted in a man. Well, not ALL that she wanted, but certainly a good portion of what she wanted. He wasn't the hero she had read about in so many books; The man who swept in on the white horse to slay the dragon and carry the maiden to safety, happily ever after, the end. Nope, he wasn't that man. He was the quirky side-kick, a little chubby, a little too hairy, and not as tall or rugged or rich as the hero. He was the guy, who after watching the dragon eat the hero, brings the maiden a shield and a sword and together they slay the dragon. Then they grab a coffee, talk smack about the hero, and plan the next adventure.

What made Sir enticing was not who he was or what he did, but how he made her feel. He listened to her, whether her day was exciting or boring, happy or sad, it didn't matter. He was there to listen. Not only that, but he responded to her in ways that made her feel like more than "just" something. He speak to her as though she were "just" a mother, or "just" a wife, or "just" a friend. He spoke to her as if she were powerful, as if she were magical, as if she inspired awe in him, as if she could do anything in the world that she put her mind to.

He had flaws too. For all the strength he tried to portray, for all the surety of his words, for all the stability of being a provider and being ever present, there was still a little boy inside the man. That little boy would show himself now and again, looking for validation, crying out in fear of being abandoned, lashing out when he didn't get his way. Repeated abandonment by his mother had taught him mistrust. He was prone to isolate himself. Long days would see him picking himself apart, examining his own motivations, poking at the inconsistencies.

There was some mix there of strength and vulnerability that drew her in time and time again. It was as if he had all these amazing things to offer her and at the same time she had all these other things that she could offer him. He would give her the tools to rescue herself and in turn she would give him the tools to rescue himself as well. They would be partners in their adventures, not one lesser than the other.

That equality only went so far though. She still had her fantasies about Sir. She wondered how the two personalities of Sir would play out during intimate moments. Which one would she want most. Would she want Sir to take charge, to act on his own desires, telling her what to do, what he likes, how to behave. Or would she want Sir to listen to HER wants, wait patiently for HER cues, move with caution and care? Would he softly brush the hair from her cheek and kiss her gently? Or would he pull her close and kiss her with force and passion. She longed for both. She wanted to feel the muscles of his arms as he claimed her as his own, but she needed that gentleness that said that she was not a plaything for his amusement.

For her, Sir was a waiting game. She would daydream and wait, wait and daydream. Someday, maybe someday she would get her opportunity to know how the fantasy would become reality. Until then she would keep him in her thoughts, as she was surely in his. Then someday, maybe someday, it would be more than fantasy.