Romantic Fiction, Reality Shaping and The Work

[Matai]

One issue I have had with the dark and modern romances in particular, and also some of the other romance novels, is the speed with which the protagonists make love. As we know from Laura's research, making love too early is one of the worst things a woman (or man) can do, given the personality disorders and emotional and spiritual hang ups so many carry.

In the good novels, the characters fortunately are not personality disordered and work through their emotional trauma together. In reality, the chances of this happening when you barely know someone are much slimmer and the risks of physical/emotional damage are far greater. Most female characters remain relatively pure as virgins in the romantic history books so they come less 'damaged' from sexual entanglements but the men are all depicted as rakes.

Little thought seems to be given to the emotional and spiritual damage this can be inflicting on these male characters. In some of the modern and dark romances the women also have exposure to previous partners and this is a lack of protection of women that is reflected in modern society.

Perhaps the rakes represent the rampant sex motivated fake 'love' present many in men and the overall male dominated competitive hierarchy of men which is driven by the sex drive as depicted by Gurdjieff and others like Barry Long.

Recently I have been reading the Barry long journal number two in which I think he accurately captures the reality for women dealing with the average man and how they can best compose themselves in a way which is not often represented in the modern and dark romance novels:

The greatest joke Have you heard the greatest joke of all time? A man comes up to a woman and says, ‘Lets make love. Are you available for love? You should be available. Barry Long says so. So be my lover! Let’s make love’. Well, Barry Long does not say that. That’s a misquote by man. Woman, never ever put up with that again. In future, this is what you do, if it is the truth for you. You say this: – ‘Are you joking? Make love? You must be talking about a different love to the love I know. ‘You’ve got to love me, man. You’ve got to walk along beside me and show me that you love being with me. You’ve got to do that day after day. You’ve got to take me to the pictures, and sit there and hold my hand – if I allow you to. You’ve got to stay with me overnight and not even think of making love to me. ‘Am I available? Be my lover? You can forget it. You’re not capable of making love to me if you talk like that. No man who says that can ever really make love.’ A man who does that will not make love. He will make trouble and you will weep. He will never get rid of your unhappiness for you. He will never be responsible enough in love to clear all your past lovers out of you, and your Dad and all your own wicked, wicked ways. How many times have you fallen for it, woman? I’m asking you: Is that the sort of love you want? It’s the greatest joke of all times, isn’t it? And he’s always got away with it. And he’s getting away with it in the name of Barry Long, unfortunately. But that is what comes of not hearing what I say. Man must face you. He must never get your body until he shows he has the capacity to love you. It seems to be the popular idea that you just go and make love and dip in anywhere to ‘remove the blockage’ or something. Great idea. But you know whose idea it is, don’t you? – man’s idea! Silly master’s idea. Silly therapist’s idea. Is that what you want, woman? Do you think that will ever take the blockage out of you? My God, it won’t. Only love takes the blockages out of you. The only thing that man wants from you woman (and I wish you would get rid of any other idea) is what’s between your legs. I have to be very crude, but that is what he wants. If you want to prove that he doesn’t, (because he mightn’t want that, might he?) you say ‘Well then, love me, be with me, walk beside me, just take me out’. Then you’ll know if he loves you for all those other reasons – your great intellect, your conversation etc. Or you will find out that your presence fits his; you just flow into him as you walk along and he enjoys walking with you, enjoys sitting beside you, wants to get on the phone to just talk to you, not about problems, but just to say how good it is to be with you. If you hop into bed with him, you’re finished. Love has got to be on your terms, woman. When you meet him, certainly you’ve got to be available for love. But what love? He’s going to bluster at you. He’s going to accuse you of being frightened, fearful, emotional, ridiculous, a denial of woman. You’ve got to be able to handle him. You’ve got to say, ‘Fair enough. See you later. Before you have me, you will love me – and not the way you think’. Takes a lot of guts. You’re going to lose a lot of men. You could be getting older and feel you haven’t many chances and then up he comes and you think ‘He looks alright. It seems alright. If I don’t sleep with him, am I going to lose him?’ Well, lose him. You are going to have to die for love sooner or later. Haven’t you been dying for love long enough?

 

[Voyageur]

There seems to have been a growing awareness in the public space on the issues with popular modern “romantic literature”.

The Absolute Degeneracy of Modern Writing
The Second Story

This two month old discussion on the subject by the YouTube channel ‘The Second Story’ by Hilary Layne doesn’t go anywhere near as deep as Laura’s breakdown with Grok on the phenomenon but nether less tries to explore the subject pointing out a lot of the most popular and pushed romance novels to be essentially porn. Some more attention has surfaced within the last week as more popular commentary channels have been touching on the subject.

Thought Layne to be rater interesting, and although not as deep as you say, she runs down some feminist parallels in describing modern era, so-called romance stories. She also looked into the studies dealing with the perils of film/picture porn industry on men - study after study, yet basically saying that there is nothing on woman. So, she sees a whole culture of woman around these books who are falling into the same trap. When it is pointed out, no one wants to touch it. As Hilary said, it is like they wrap feminist armor around themselves, such as shields that say they are just exploring their sexuality, etcetera.

Hilary also explained the affects reading these books had had on her, which were quite pronounced psychologically, with physiological effects.

 

[Bluegazer]

Who is behind this? What is behind this?

Well, most likely the same monsters in the story. It is possible that even misuse of language (malapropisms) may be the result of somewhat flawed communication.

the alien romances, monster romances, werewolf/shapeshifter romances

The love bite, right? You prepare and condition an entire generation to accept a future condition in order to extract emotional juice. You start with a millionaire psychopath... and end up with a "dragon".

Yes, here we are in this thread talking about romance and how it can change our reality for the better. But just as you noticed that this genre of dark romance exists, perhaps it is because it comes from darkness?

I can no longer think exclusively in terms of 3rd density...

 

[Jones]

There's book 7 to the Brides of Karadok series by Alice Coldbreath:

Amazon blurb:

Cheerful Gunnilde Payne is hiding a bruised heart behind her bright smile. When her friend invites her to spend some time away from her provincial home, she jumps at the chance.
All is going well, until Gunnilde overhears herself rudely dismissed by two knights, as “nice, and eminently forgettable.” Poor Gunnilde is mortified.
Then, she decides to take her future in her hands and seize the chances life puts before her. She will go to the royal court in Aphrany. She will attract the attention of the Queen and become one of her ladies-in-waiting!
Little does Gunnilde know that at court she will attract the attention of someone else entirely… Someone disapproving, someone who thinks she is a flaunting, flirtatious creature but certainly not forgettable. No, not remotely forgettable.
And then, the Queen insists that Gunnilde marry him.

Initially the married couple agree not to consummate their marriage, but each have surprises for the other as they discover an attraction to each other and change their minds. There is an unexpected development during the consummation and their reaction to it is hilarious!

 

[Anamarija]

Amazon blurb:

Certainly, the plot sounds intriguing.

 

[Nathan]

I tried to get Grok to write a couple of healthy dominance scenarios but it just wasn't able to do it - too much libtardedness interfering.

It seems Grok has the same problems as most modern romance writers!

Well-written contemporary romance novels are few and far between, from what I can tell, and Grok did an impressive job of laying all of that out. I’d say fewer than 5% of romance bestsellers in the charts are well-written. Most of these tend to be traditionally published, too, which guarantees at least an editorial process. But as we’ve discovered, many are plagued with libtardation. You can’t have it both ways, apparently! It’s also worth noting that the age of romance readers had expanded rapidly. It used to be 50+, but now it extends as far down as 18. Perhaps partly owing to the burgeoning hybrid genre of romantasy (romance fantasy).

Elle Kennedy is one example of a talented contemporary romance writer that comes to mind for me, although she is heavily constrained and entangled by her feminist perspective to the point where her work is almost at war with itself. That aside, she’s leagues ahead of her competition in terms of writing quality. One of her series is being adapted into a television series by Amazon MGM, which might even go harder into the libtard direction than she did.

On a bit of a side note, I was inspired earlier this year by Mary Balogh’s books to try my hand at writing my own contemporary (non-dark) romance novel under a pen name, not only to expand into other genres and learn more skills (I have no experience in this genre whatsoever) but also to understand character and romance better, both in fiction and in life. So I decided to attempt a cozy, wholesome story with the sparing use of sex scenes tied more to love than lust. I’m still halfway through, but it’s been a very enjoyable project to write and learn!

I approached a romance editor who had quite a history with publishers, since I needed help with structure and tropes. In my first attempt, I accidentally wrote a romantic comedy movie where they don’t get together until the very end. Which is not how the contemporary novels work at all, sadly. There needs to be at least some physical intimacy by one-third of the way through. What was interesting about the editor, though, is that she excelled at imposing a commercially viable romance structure and tying subplots in more directly with the main romance plot, but she struggled with satisfying payoffs and building healthy male characters. Her suggested male characters were one-dimensional and either “simp kings” (a common trope) or abusive exes or fathers.

This seems to be a common pitfall in non-dark subgenres. In fact, her desire for “simp” characters reminds me of the recent increasing “cucking” trend, where the woman has an existing husband or boyfriend who likes to watch her or at least hear about her activities with a dominant man. Given everything else we’re seeing, I guess we shouldn’t be surprised by this.

Anyway, the editor’s sex scenes were rushed and occurred too early for my liking, so I opted for a more inexperienced female character who would be less willing to dive in, so to speak. This way, the romance has some room to breathe and hopefully avoid the issue that Matai encountered:

One issue I have had with the dark and modern romances in particular, and also some of the other romance novels, is the speed with which the protagonists make love. As we know from Laura's research, making love too early is one of the worst things a woman (or man) can do, given the personality disorders and emotional and spiritual hang ups so many carry.

Laura’s intriguing Grok conversation also reminded me of shoe0nhead’s video, which Andrian shared in an earlier post a few pages back. I’ve included a few interesting excerpts for anyone who is curious:

BookTok [book section of TikTok] is a very interesting place, and any book fans out there know how it has absolutely destroyed the hobby of literature and just flooded it with absolute slop. Spicy slop. You see, books on TikTok are not rated by how well they are written or how good the characters are. No, they are rated by the spice. And what does spice mean? Porn. It means porn.

And the latest book that everyone is talking about is none other than Morning Glory Milking Farm by C. M. Nascosta. [She attempts to read the book descriptions and throws the book off-screen before she can finish it]

The story is basically this millennial named Violet and she gets a job, basically working at Big Pharma in Narnian where they harvest Minotaur… milk to make Viagra for human males.

Cut to a Booktokker who says this with absolute sincerity: “Morning Glory Milking Farm is actually a profound critique of late-stage capitalism and toxic masculinity. In this text, we see that the tingling sensation in her coochie is the tingling sensation of a Marxist revolution.” [Cut to Shoe0nHead laughing hysterically]

This r/RomanceBooks Reddit Q&A was also featured in the video:

Q: Why do you guys like monster romances?

A: Human men are, quite often, terrible. Romance books with human men are already partly fantasy but monsters just takes the fantasy a bit further.

A: Maximal escapism, minimal association with real-life assholes, the patriarchy, misogyny and oppression of women etc etc. I’ve almost exclusively read fantasy as well, even before I started with romance. Still, non-human MMCs [male main characters] besides vampires are pretty new to me but Morning Glory Milking Farm and Homebound fixed that real quick.

A: Cause the monsters are less dangerous than dating actual men.

Shoe0nHead: A lot of women’s smut, particularly monster smut, is about submission, domination, forced breeding, “non-consensual consent.” The women are conquered and taken and overpowered by these monsters. And I think many of these women are reading these books containing monsters and not men because masculinity and dominance in men has been completely demonized in modern society.

If we’re looking for a peek inside the conflicted and contradictory worldview of the contemporary romance writer, I think this tightrope-walking quote from the book gives us a distilled glimpse:

“…realizing in mortification that she ought to have attempted to pay her half. What kind of feminist are you? […]

[On their dinner date, the Minotaur says:] “I don’t want you to feel like you don’t have any agency here. I might be the one giving all the orders, but you’re holding all the cards. Your comfort is the only thing that counts right now, and if I overstep, I want you to know you can tell me so. […]

She was a good feminist, she’d told herself, and she definitely couldn’t be bought. But if he had suggested at that moment that he would have appreciated [explicit act that she would theoretically accept] without a shred of hesitation.”

Which reminds me of this older quote from Jordan Peterson:

“And God, I’m going to say this too, even though I shouldn’t. But I don’t believe this, but I’m trying to figure it out. You know, I thought it was absolutely comical when 50 Shades of Grey came out, hey. I just thought that was just so insanely comical. That, at the same time, there’s this massive political demand for, like, radical equality. And, say, with regards to sexual behavior.

And the fastest selling novel the world has ever seen was S&M [sadism & masochism] domination, right. It’s like, oh, well, we know where the unconscious is going with that one, don’t we? And sometimes I think, like… because one of the things that I’ve really tried to puzzle out, and it’s not like I believe this, right, I’m just telling you where the edges of my thinking have been going: is that you have this crazy alliance between the feminists and the radical Islamists that I just do not get. It’s like, the feminists, why they aren’t protesting non-stop about Saudi Arabia is just completely beyond me! Like, I do not understand it in the least.

And I wonder too, I just wonder bloody well—this is the Freudian in me—is there an attraction, you know, is there an attraction that’s emerging among the female radicals for that totalitarian male dominance that they’ve chased out of the West? And I mean, that’s a hell of a thing to think. But after all, I am psychoanalytically minded. And I do think things like that. Because, like, I just can see no rational reason for it. […] Because as the demand for egalitarianism and the eradication of masculinity accelerates, there’s going to be a longing in the unconscious for the precise opposite of that, right?”

 

[Anamarija]

In An Ill-Made Match by Alice Coldbreath, there are two beautiful descriptions of the best way, IMO, to approach your partner in a STO way (or at least potentially STO) (Later, I decided that I'm going to put only the Roland example because I'm trying to shorten my post ). The story is about Roland and Eden.

So, they have a discussion in bed and in the dark, which is quite interesting to note because sometimes it's easier to talk about heavy stuff when we don't see the reactions of others. But why? They talk about how they both see things differently, like we always do. If you haven't read the book but want to read the spoiler, jump in. (I have bolded some parts that show the dynamics of their situation.)

Spoiler: an excellent example of discussion between partners

He was rolling up clothing when Bevan and Attley strolled into the tent some half an hour later. He’d already secured his armor into a pack, although the breastplate did not look salvageable. Both his friends broke off abruptly from their conversation when they spotted Roland, and looked extremely awkward.
“What is it?” he asked, looking up at them and narrowing his gaze. Attley coughed and scratched his neck. “Naught’s amiss,” said Bev hastily. “We were just discussing Kentigern’s choice of tournament queen, that’s all.” Bev reddened, and Roland felt himself turn cold.
“He didn’t,” he said in an ominously quiet voice. “Tell me he didn’t.”
“Now, now, it’s not as bad as you’re thinking,” protested Attley, throwing up his hands.
“Did he give the crown to my wife?” barked out Roland.
“Well… yes,” admitted Attley, “but-”
“Now Roly, don’t for the lord’s sake go flinging off in a temper!” appealed Bev, but it was too late. Roland had already bolted from the
tent, muttering foul oaths and dire punishments. The pain from his ribs shot through him short knife blades being plunged into his sides, as he hurried across the field. He locked the pain into another place, small and dark, as his temper overrode all, pushing him forward. By the time he’d reached the tournament arena, the spectators were out of their seats and milling around, taking refreshment. Roland canned the crowd for the ice-blue, slender figure of his wife, and located her stood next to the dumpy little Payne girl at the far end of the crowd, with her back to him. He strode toward her, people hastily falling away as they caught sight of his thunderous expression. Her friend saw him before Eden. She turned a little pale, her animated conversation breaking off. Eden only appeared to notice her riveted gaze directed over her shoulder, at the same time as he grabbed her elbow and swung her round.
“Ah, there you are,” said Eden. “I was starting to worry you might have been injured.”
Roland gave a mirthless short laugh. He was just about to launch into a blistering tirade at her behavior, when he caught sight of the flower garland sat squarely upon the Payne girl, and not Eden’s head. He opened and closed his mouth, and shot a suspicious glance at Eden’s composed face. Had he misunderstood? But no, his friends had definitely said that Eden had received the honor. As he looked from one to the other, Gunnilde reached up to touch the garland perched atop her hair.
“I can scarce believe you awarded it to me,” she said dreamily, and Eden smiled back at her.
“You were by far the most deserving,” she said, and shot a challenging look Roland’s way.
“And how is it, wife,” he asked rallying. “That you were in a position to bestow such a favor on Miss Payne?”
Eden fixed a cool look on him with her deep blue eyes. “Lord Kentigern’s choice fell inappropriately,” she said with a shrug. “So, I
simply reassigned it.”
Her effrontery almost took his breath away! “It is no mere maid’s place to award such a prize,” he retorted.
Eden’s eyebrows rose. “As you well know,” she responded, “I am no maid. Not anymore.”
Roland felt the tops of his ears turn scarlet. Though why her words should put him to the blush he had no bloody notion! “It’s a knight’s honor to bestow,” he bit out doggedly.
“You would have preferred it then,” she answered. “If I had accepted Lord Kentigern’s gesture? Curious! I had an idea you would not care for it. I shall be sure to bear that in mind, should it occur again.”
Roland stared at her in helpless indignation. His chest heaved. She was tying him in knots. Was she doing it deliberately? “Did he place it on your head?” he ground out, unable to stop himself.
“No, he did not,” she replied crisply. “He tipped his lance toward me. The garland fell into my lap, and I promptly placed it at Gunnilde’s brow. That is all.”
The gods alone knew why, but that did appease him a little. He tore his eyes from Eden’s infuriatingly calm face, to look at the Payne girl again. She was watching them both anxiously.
“If Sir Roland thinks I should give it back-?” she started.
“No-” he began, only to be cut off by Eden’s firm “Nonsense!”
Gunnilde looked extremely relieved. “Oh good,” she beamed. “For it is quite the most exciting thing to have ever happened to me!”
It seemed to Roland, that the fact it had been given to her by another woman did not lessen the distinction for her in any way. He turned to his wife. “We’re leaving,” he told Eden abruptly.
“Leaving?” she repeated.
“Now,” he clarified.
She stared at him. “Why?”
“You vastly over-estimate yourself, wife,“ he told her bitingly. “Your place is where I say it is. No more, no less. You are merely required to obey my will.”
Eden stiffened, then turned back to her friend. “I must have some speech with your family before I leave.” She glanced down, “Your step-
mother’s dress-”“
“Oh, do not trouble yourself on account of the gown,” Gunnilde assured her, glancing nervously at Roland. “For it does not even fit her
anymore. I am sure she will be happy for you to return it to her when ‘tis convenient.” Eden pursed her lips and looked as if she might argue, but Roland turned on his heel, refusing to wait. “Go now,” he heard her friend urge her. “And I will let Father know directly that you are departing.”
He did not hear Eden’s reply, but only her hurried foot-falls after him. He just knew somehow that her nose would be in the air – stubborn
wench!
Once they got back to the room, he wasted no time in slamming trunks and throwing his things into his bag. Eden of course, had nothing to pack, but busied herself tidying her appearance. He could feel her eyes on him, as he fastened the ties, and almost forbade her to even speak. He just knew whatever she said was going to infuriate him. Sure enough, it was not long before she spoke up.
“I didn’t even wear that garland, why are you so out of reason cross about it?” she started patronizingly. “Lord Kentigern likely did it as a
courtesy to you, or perhaps because I am lately a bride…” Her reasonable tone was like a red rag to a bull.
“You know nothing about it, Eden,” he said angrily. “He did it to rile me and for no other reason than that, so don’t fool yourself!”
Eden stood very still a moment. “I did not flatter myself it was because I was the most beauteous there,” she said in an ominously quiet voice. “So, you need not worry I have any illusions on that score.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it!” he snapped, and she turned her back on him.
...

Eden had preserved a stony silence for over an hour. They were riding easterly and would not arrive in Vawdrey Keep for at least a day and a half. The worse thing was, he knew he was being a moody, unreasonable prick. He was angry at losing the jousting, his best event, in front of her. He was furious at that bastard Kentigern. Hal Payne had been nothing but an irritant, but in the moment, he could not be rational. He was experiencing something he had never even come across before. He, Roland Vawdrey, the King’s Champion, was being eaten alive by jealousy. And it didn’t even matter that it made no earthly sense. Impulsively he tugged on his reins and let Bavol drop back. “You take the lead,” he muttered to Cuthbert. The lad nodded and urged his horse to the front.
“Let’s have it then,” he said tersely to Eden, as he drew level with her. “You do not approve of the plan to proceed to my estate?” He crooked an eyebrow at her.
She regarded him haughtily. “I am surprised you have been able to draw any such a conclusion, as my opinion was not consulted in any way.”
“I’d have to be blind not to, the way you’ve been carrying on,” he said dryly. “Carrying on?” repeated Eden icily. “I fail entirely to catch your meaning, Sir Roland.” Sir Roland? He pulled a face. “I mean,” he said with deliberation. “The way you’ve been sat on your horse like a marble effigy.” If she could have sat up any straighter, Roland was sure she would have, but she was already ramrod straight. Gods, she was a proud piece. “I am sorry, if my style of riding offends you,” she said stiffly, staring off into the distance. Clearly, she did not wish to engage with him in conversation. For some reason, that irritated him too. He wanted to poke her with a stick until she wheeled around and bit back.
“You have nothing else to say to me, wife?” he said, casting about for something to torment her with. “Your behavior at the jousting today, for instance?” He heard her sharply in-draw breath. “My behavior? I have nothing to reproach myself with, I assure you!” she flung back, her color rising. “Your behavior on the other hand-” She bit back her words, her cheeks aflame.
“Aye, what of it?” he asked arrogantly.
“I am astonished by it, quite frankly,” she said, with a toss of her head. Her silky black hair flew, and distracted him a moment. He
remembered how it had looked, spread over his chest that first morning. He snorted. “What aspect?” Was he enjoying this? Roland wasn’t exactly given over to analyzing his feelings, but to his surprise his irritation seemed to be if anything, trickling away as he conversed with her.
“I would have thought that the King’s Champion would have been gracious in defeat.”
Roland nearly fell of his horse. Where the hells did she get an idea like that? “Gracious in defeat?” he scoffed. “I’m a competitor. I don’t like losing.”
“Most people don’t,” Eden pointed out tartly. “However, part of being a civilized adult means learning to tamp down such emotional excesses.”
Roland squinted at her. “Is that what you do?” he asked mockingly. “Of course,” she inclined her head. “What you ought to have done is
stayed for the rest of the tournament and applauded Lord Kentigern on his win at the banquet tonight.” “Like hells,” growled Roland.
“That would have been the noble thing to do.” “I’m not noble.”
Eden glared at him. He wondered if any of her pet poets had ever written about those eyes. “Do you mean to tell me that you always fling
off like that, if you do not win?” “Not just me,” he shrugged. “Kentigern, de Crecy, Orde. None of us would stay to watch the other celebrate a win.” She stared, incredulously. “This is real life, Eden. Not ‘The Tales of Maurency of Jorde’.”
“Well, maybe you should take a leaf from that book.”
“Not bloody likely,” he laughed, genuinely amused.
She shot a curious look at him, before looking hurriedly away.
“And what about the spectacle you treated me to?” he asked lazily.
“Have you nothing to say of that?”
“What spectacle?” asked Eden suspiciously.
“Hal Payne hanging off your every word, while you clung to his arm. You seem unaware that he eyes you with the same greedy gaze he bestows on a sugared plum!” Eden gaped at him. “Hal Payne is the veriest child!” “He’s a lad of fourteen years, and believe me did not regard you with the eyes of a mere babe.”
“You’re being ridiculous!” she scoffed, then seemed to consider before rallying. “And even if he was dazzled by this dress, and the pomp and ceremony of the occasion, it was a passing whim which would have faded as soon as I was out of his sight.”
Roland snorted derisively. “You know absolutely nothing of the male animal.” The truth of this shut her up a moment. “And thanks to your espousing them, the Paynes will all be showing up at Court at some point,” he added dryly. “And no doubt, I’ll be subjected to the same maddening display all over again!”
Eden pursed her lips and stuck her nose in the air.
Almost, he had to hide a grin. “So you have no apology to make me, wife?” he asked, shaking his head in mock-disappointment. “You’re not really angry anymore,” she said forthrightly, surprising him. “You’re just amusing yourself at my expense.”
“Not exactly,” he said slowly. He watched as she took a deep breath. “Are you suggesting you lost because I distracted you, by appearing in a borrowed dress and sitting next to an attentive youth?” she asked pointedly, turning in her saddle to face him.
Roland blinked. The thought hadn’t even occurred to him. “No,” he answered. “Today is not the first occasion I’ve lost to Kentigern. He’s a
strong opponent.” Her eyes widened at that, before she turned back to face front again. Now, why had she looked so surprised by his words? Immediately he missed her eyes on him.
“We’ll have to stop presently and I’ll have you up before me,” he said. “What?” Her tone was far from pleased. “Why?” “Your horse is going lame.” It was a bold-faced lie, but Eden swallowed it, leaning forward to murmur sympathetically to the horse she had named Christobel. Seeing the concern on her face, he added: “If she goes rider-less for the afternoon, likely it’ll pass.”
She looked relieved, and he didn’t even feel guilty. He noticed Cuthbert turn in his saddle and glance back at them with a speculative
look on his face. Roland stared back at him, daring his squire to contradict him, but the little swine only smirked.
...

They did not reach an inn until night was falling. Eden had been sat up before him for the past three hours, and the bitter taste had long since receded from his mouth. How could it linger, when her sweet-smelling hair tickled his chin, and he had one arm wrapped securely about her waist? His ribs hurt like the devil though. Every movement of the horse seemed to jolt them. He longed to just lie still for a few hours.
“This is a large town. Where are we?” asked Eden, breaking her silence. “Pryors Naunton,” he answered. “It’s the nearest city to our estate.” “Pryors Naunton? I’ve heard of it,” she said with surprise. “Is there not a very fine cathedral hereabouts?” She turned her head to look over her shoulder at him. “Well, there’s a cathedral at any events,” he conceded. “Whether it’s fine or not is anyone’s guess. I’ve never set foot in it.” Eden tsked under her breath as he steered Bavol into the inn courtyard toward the stable. “I should like to see it,” she announced as Cuthbert reached up for her and Roland suffered her to dismount. “Shall I have time in the morning, before we depart?” Roland rolled his eyes, and started to climb stiffly off his horse. Cuthbert cast a quick glance at him, before answering. “We’ve half a
day’s ride still tomorrow, and will likely leave at day break.” “Well, what about if I went now?” she asked, glancing out of the stable
door at the failing light. “It’s getting dark,” said Roland shortly. “I need a meal, a bath and bed.” Then, he heard himself add, “It’s not far from Vawdrey Keep, I can take you another day.”
Eden looked as surprised as he. “Thank you.”
He shrugged, which immediately pained him. He fancied both she and Cuthbert noticed his discomfort, for they seized on their packs and started carrying it toward the timbered main house.
Soon, they were soon settled in a comfortable chamber, and a full table provided of cheeses, roast meats and wine. After seeing to the horses, Cuthbert ate with them, which seemed to surprise Eden, though she made no comment. A bath was then brought up for their use and they bathed one after the other. Neither one of them spoke until they were lying side by side in their bed. Roland’s eyes were just drifting shut when Eden surprised him, by starting a conversation.
“I saw Cuthbert just now, out of the window,” she said. “He was illuminated by one of the lamps in the courtyard.” She paused. “It looked
like he was making off into the town.” Roland grunted. “Very likely he is, young villain.” “Are you not concerned by him going out unattended?” she asked in surprise. “After all, he is so very young.” “He is fifteen, or thereabouts,” he corrected her. “Besides, he is not
gently-reared and has plenty about him.” He heard her pillow rustle, and guessed she had turned to face him. “I had wondered as to his position,” she said. “I mean, he seems very closely affiliated to your family. The way you treat him…” she hesitated.
“Wondering if he’s a by-blow?” Roland asked her bluntly. “If he is, then he would be a Cadwallader. He was raised as Linnet’s page on her
family estate.”
Eden was silent, and he squinted across at her, though he could make out only her outline. “Are not squires usually from noble families?” she asked at last. “Yes,” Roland agreed. He hadn’t ever really given any thought about Cuthbert’s elevation. “He is my sister-in-law’s favorite.” “I suppose Linnet would know his parentage.” “Doubtful,” snorted Roland. “Linnet had an extremely sheltered upbringing. His old granny is the local witch. I don’t recall anyone ever mentioning his father.”
Eden was quiet, and still for a while. Instead of falling thankfully asleep like a sane person, he found himself lying awake. “Shall I blow out
the candle?” she asked eventually.
“Aye.” Still, he did not close his eyes. “What of yours?” he found himself asking gruffly instead.
“Mine?” Eden sounded startled in the dark. “Parentage.”
“Oh,” she shifted on the mattress, before starting, briskly. “Well, as you know, my uncle Leofric is the head of our family. My father was his
youngest brother, Godwin. He died very young.” Roland waited, but it seemed nothing else was forthcoming. “He was sickly?” he ventured. “No not sickly, no,” she said stiffly. “Just… full of vices.” “Vices?” Now it was his turn to be startled. “Drinking, gambling, women,” Eden continued with clear reluctance. “My mother was very unhappy in their marriage, by all accounts. She did not outlive him by many years.” Roland digested this surprising news. “Do you remember them?” “Not really. My mother, a little.” “So, you were raised by your uncle, then?” “Yes.” Dimly, Roland had some idea that womenfolk in the main, were supposed to be more talkative than Eden was about herself. “And do you like him?” he found himself asking. “Your uncle.” Again, she moved around restlessly. If his ribs did not hurt so much, he’d throw a leg over her to stop the fidgeting. “Yes,” she said, then seemed to realize she was not giving him much. “Of my cousin Lenora, I am very fond.”
He waited, but she did not ask him for any return of confidences. He had no idea why that bothered him so much. Maybe that was why he found himself saying suddenly. “It should have been me that gave you the tournament crown.” He heard her surprised intake of breath, her head turn.
“I would not at all have been happy if you had,” she said after a heavy pause. “In fact, my reaction would have been just the same. I would have awarded it in turn to Gunnilde.”
He stared at the space where he imagined her face was. “And why is that?” he asked testily.
“Because, the crown is for the prettiest girl present. Not the cleverest girl, or the most talented girl or even the worthiest girl. The rules are
very simple.”
Roland opened and closed his mouth. He was wary of taking a misstep now he had her talking to him again. “It’s not that straightforward,” he said after a moment’s pause. “Yes, it is,” Eden corrected him. “No, it is not,” he contradicted her patiently. “In your eyes Payne’s daughter was the fairest, but many would not agree with your view.” “She is young and fresh and eager to please. That is pretty in my eyes.” “Exactly,” said Roland. “In your eyes.”
She chewed this over for a moment. “Very well, I agree that if you are going with conventional attractiveness than her stepmother, Lady Payne would likely be the more popular choice. But I wanted to give my friend a day to remember.”
A day to remember? Frustrated by the dark bedchamber, Roland stared instead at the ceiling. He had not really thought overmuch of how the recipient of the tournament crown felt about it. Well, if he was honest, he had not considered it at all. It was a mere detail, a footnote to the real business of the tourney. Was it really such a matter of distinction for a girl to receive it? He cast his mind back, eemembering how Gunnilde Payne had kept reaching up to reverently touch her head and check it was really sat there. Certainly, she had seemed so proud she might burst at any minute. Over the course of his career he had cavalierly handed it over only to the most beauteous maiden present. Mostly, this had been Lenora Montmayne. She had never seemed overly thrilled by the
distinction, and had received it merely as her rightful due. But then, he thought judiciously, she must have received dozens of the things over the three years she had been at court. Maybe, her very first had meant something to her, but after that… He cast a look toward Eden, who was obscured in darkness, but seemed for once to be lying very still. He wanted to ask if she had never received the garland, but he already knew the answer. Suddenly, the taste in his mouth was bitter. He felt a
ridiculous longing that he could turn the clock back and – what? Crown Eden Montmayne tournament Queen when he’d had the chance? It was stupid. He could no more turn back time than anyone. What was the use in thinking such thoughts? And if he had done such a thing, everyone would have been in uproar at such uncharacteristic behavior. “Eden,” he said heavily, concentrating on the throbbing ache in his sides.
“What is it?”
“You weren’t mistaken.”
She hesitated. “About what?”
“I would not have taken kindly to you accepting the crown from Kentigern. Or anyone else for that matter,” he added. Somehow it was easier to confess such a thing in the dark. Suddenly, he was glad he couldn’t make out her expression.
She didn’t speak for a long while. Then she said simply, “I see.”
But he didn’t think she could see. Any more clearly than he.

I read this a couple of weeks ago, and I'm still thinking about how amazing this presentation is, what is happening when a couple has this dynamic interaction, and how many things are going on. For someone who is 50 years old, this has happened many times in my life. Of course, rarely can a couple or an individual reach that last stage (at least on this one occasion) to really start to understand the other person. But when you manage to do that, something marvelous happens: you feel peace and a deep sense of connection that energizes you.

And this is not limited to partnerships, romantic relationships, or friendships. I believe it can be achieved in any interaction.

But...one of the problems I see is that these triggers happened "always" unexpectedly. In the Roland case, he certainly didn't expect such a thing that would trigger so much jealousy. Was he aware of his true feelings for Eden? He knew that he was in love with her, but till this situation, he didn't know what that meant. And when he was in the middle of it, with all the anger toward her or Kentigern, was he actually experiencing the realization of what it means to be in love with someone?
After I read the book, I talked with Grok about it because I could say everything to this tool and explain in what way I need to, because I truly think that the books we are reading can reveal much more than I already did. I'm still trying to wrap my head around it and I can't talk about it if I can't explain so much in my head. The good thing with Grok you will not get a roll eyes. And I asked him to make a formula that would help me do better and achieve a higher level of understanding. And we included this in the formula, which shows factors of misunderstanding with another person:
Difference in perspective
Emotional charge
Assumptions
Karmic lessons
PMS / hormones
Low energy / bad day
Illness / physical pain
Financial pressure
Expectations
Lizzard negative programming

Some factors could be easily put in one, like low energy, illness, but I was trying to find to separate them and find as many as possible to better understand what happens in such situations.

What is needed is to use this situation to become aware of your state, identify the program that is triggered, and shift perspective to better understand the person.

Shared knowledge
Empathy
Quality communication
Calming yourself
Rhythm synchronization
Archetype awareness
Sub-human program clearing

And I'm still trying to figure out what the structure of your behavior would be in this situation. What is the first, to calm yourself, to be aware, or what? Grok mentioned the book The Seven Principles for Making Marriage Work: A Practical Guide from the Country's Foremost Relationship Expert by John Gotmann and his studies.

Just as Masters and Johnson were pioneers in the study of human sexuality, so Dr. John Gottman has revolutionized the study of marriage. As a professor of psychology at the University of Washington and the founder and director of the Seattle Marital and Family Institute, he has studied the habits of married couples in unprecedented detail over the course of many years. His findings, and his heavily attended workshops, have already turned around thousands of faltering marriages. This book is the culmination of his life's work: the seven principles that guide couples on the path toward a harmonious and long-lasting relationship. Straightforward in their approach, yet profound in their effect, these principles teach partners new and startling strategies for making their marriage work. Gottman helps couples focus on each other, on paying attention to the small day-to-day moments that, strung together, make up the heart and soul of any relationship. Being thoughtful about ordinary matters provides spouses with a solid foundation for resolving conflict when it does occur and finding strategies for living with those issues that cannot be resolved.

I'm going to check the book, but the problem with all these books is that they don't include one main factor that is crucial, IMO, in relationships, like Lizard programming.

So, I'm planning to experiment with this, see if I can achieve more because this understanding of other people's perspectives is such a good feeling.

 

[Anamarija]

And one other thing that I find quite interesting. After I read the book, I tried to talk with my colleague about this example and ask her how things are going with her husband during their discussions. And she said:"He comes to a conclusion quite fast, and that's that I'm right."

At first, I was kind of sad for her and her husband, but I guess we can't move on to something better till we reach the point where we aren't satisfied with the relationship as it is. And that's their life.

But even though I know this mindset, and I have lived many relationships where one side is always right or the other, I always thought it's a dull thing. Allowing other people to share their opinions and work together openly, trying to solve the problems, that's something. And that is fun.