Ask the Companions II: The Heart Wants

 

 

 

 

 

 

SHIT!  What time is it?  We were supposed to answer these days ago!

 

 

 

 

 

It’s only been a few days.  Or…or, hang on, let me count the bottles.  One, two…six…

…oh dear.  Well.  We’d better get to it, hadn’t we?

Dear Denaos and Kataria,

For the love of all that is good, I need your help. Otherwise my life is ruined!

You see, I recently met a rather fetching girl. You know the kind – blonde hair, blue eyes, buxom, and never having possessed an original thought in her head. Of course, as usual, I immediately fell madly in love. She was the only one for me etc. and I told her so.

One thing led to another and we enjoyed a pleasant roll in grass under the shade of an apple tree.

Now Denaos, surely you know how fleeting those feelings of love can be (I think it’s rather unfair of Pyr to call you a ”lecherous thug”). One minute you’re enthralled by her graceful elegance and fascinated by her curves. The next, well, let’s just say you’re scanning for the next polite exit.

Well, I was just about to dash, when her father collared me. Big bloke. Firm grip. Political connections.

He says I’m to marry her!

I am now held prisoner in my hotel room, the door guarded by two brutes. It is all I can do to scribble this petition for your help and pray that it finds you. The wedding is set for the day after Valentine’s. I fear I’ll read your reply in my final hours of bachelorhood.

Denaos, Kataria, I desperately need your advice. I need a cunning plan to save me from getting hitched!

 

 

 

 

Well, it’s about time I was recognized.  Not that my expertise in matters of the heart is anything to be scoffed at, but I do have other talents.

 

 

 

 

 

Alcoholism isn’t a talent.

 

 

 

 

 

Is it alcoholism?  Or is it merely devout libation?

Anyway, my friend in need, I’ve seen this manner of pickle before.  Clearly, you can’t very well go with her.  Why, you might as well just put a padlock around your member and make it official.  Nor can you really back out of this, lest you find out just how firm this fellow’s grip is.

Naturally, you’ve fallen prey to that most common collector of man: the cock.  Yes, you’ve abandoned the path of logic and reason and decided to follow a thick vein right into the abyss.  And not only that, you’ve made another amateur mistake in thinking that your brain can save you.

Your brain, sir, is riddled with self-doubt, opinions and “feelings.”  It wants to betray you, kill you.  Your penis loves you.  Your penis wants you to be happy.  Your penis can get you out of this.

Merely go along with it.  Follow that same thread of whimsy that drove her to love you.  Be as the wind, flitting from one thing to another and taking her along.  Soon, as with all marriages, the luster will fade.  That laughing whimsy she fell in love with will seem trill and childish to her ears.  Your wanton ways will make her feel tired and your natural curiosity will make her feel old.  Soon, she will tire of you and crave someone more stable and boring and toss you to the curb, like so much refuse.

 

 

 

 

 

Huh.  That’s actually not the worst idea.

 

 

 

 

 

I’ve been experienced.

 

 

 

 

 

Still, given that this response is a week late, it’s sad to think he’s probably now dead.

Anyhoo…

Dear Kataria and Denaos,
I’ve heard that eating a bit of chocolate creates a bodily reaction similar to the feeling of being in love. My question is: how much and what kind of alcohol is best for getting through V-Day without either strangling the lovey-dovey people or sobbing uncontrollably in the corner?

 

 

 

 

What?  Chocolate?  It’s meat, surely, that gives you that feeling.

 

 

 

 

 

Meat?  What’s so romantic about meat?

 

 

 

 

 

He’s not talking about romance, he’s talking about being in love.

Meat, when prepared right, is something tough and stringy.  You have to bite into it and refuse to let go, ripping and tearing and gnawing until you finally have a piece of it for yourself.  Once you’ve got it, it’s raw and bursting with blood and it’s messy and it makes everything feel better for awhile.  Then later, when you’ve eaten and digested it and it’s all gone, you wish you had some more, but you’re left with nothing but an uncomfortable feeling in your gut and a bad smell to follow.

The key, then, is to just eat as much meat as possible.  Slather it over your lips.  Let its juices dribble down your chin.  Smile so that everyone can see your canines fit for rending.  They will fear and respect you.  And that will one day turn to love.  Or something so like it you can’t tell the difference.

 

 

 

 

 

They don’t make meat alcohol.

 

 

 

 

 

WELL, THEY SHOULD.

Dear Kataria and Denaos,

How do I make women understand my love for the precious is not a threat to my love for them? I loves the precious, and I loves her. But she gets mad when we touches her, yes she does, doesn’t she precious? She does, she does!

GOLLUM, GOLLUM, GOLLUM….

*Stupid fat girlfriend, she stoled my heart. We wants the heart, we needs it. Must have the heart. They stole it from us. Sneaky little girlfriendses. Wicked, flirty, false…

No precious, we mustn’t say that. Master will get angry, master will hear.

*Then we steals back the chocolate and we be the master!

Yes. No! No! It’s too risky. It’s too risky.Girlfriendses, she knows. She’s always watching.

*Where would you be without me, gollum, gollum? I saved us! It was me! We survived because of me!

Yes, precious…

…as you can see, I’m conflicted. Help, we needs help?!

GOLLUM GOLLUM GOLLUM

 

 

 

 

Yeah, I think I’m going to let the other guy handle this one.

 

 

 

 

 

Their minds are weak, like sheep.  Their flesh is so much mutton, fit only to be chewed.  They bleat, for they have no language.  They roam, for they have no direction.  It is not mercy they seek.  Mercy is cruelty.  Compassion is a lie.  Love, true love, is guidance.  Love is a shepherd.  Love is direction.

The heart is strong.  The heart is weak.  The heart hangs withered in the cage of bone and the sack of sinew.  It beats out of instinct, as the sheep does, not out of love.  It must be fed.  It must be gorged with blood.  It must be touched by love.  A thousand must die so that one may feel something more than fear, that one may speak more than the wailing.

Guide them.  Gorge them.  Seize them by their throat that they may know your kindness.  Show them the darkness that they may not fear it.  Let them know your hatred that they may know what is fear.  They will weep, they will wail, they will fall at your feet and beg to know why it is that they must suffer.

And when they understand, they will celebrate.  Their minds can be shaped.  Their flesh can be molded.  Their hearts can be guided.

Through will.  And through love.

 

 

 

 

 

Does…does that help?

Dearest Kataria and Denaos,

Sooo, next month marks my 17th birthday (like two days after valentines) but my teacher and I are wanting to do something special on valentines to show our commitment for one another. Guys in my class are asking me out, but they’re just *so* immature, and young for me, though their my own age, but still. Anyways, what can I do with him? It’s totally awks when we’re out together and people see us, but still want to do something to mark valentines day and 1 yr together. What’s your advice? How do we make this special?

 

 

 

 

Assuming neither of you are in prison at this point, I would suggest probably waiting another year.

Nothing ruins a professional relationship like intimacy.  Humanity was not meant to share coin or space with one another for long periods of time.  What you’re feeling right now is likely desperation, a need to cling to the nearest human being as a drowning man clings to driftwood.

Give yourself some space.  See how you feel in another year.

Or else maybe he’ll go to jail.  Then things will be awks, indeed.

Dear Denaos, I’m in love with my books. How can I tell if they love me back? I used to able to read their minds, but recently I’ve been pulled away from them due to work. Any tips re-kindling the fire? (pun intended)

 

 

 

 

Why do they ask me this?  I don’t know anything about books.  You want to handle this one?

 

 

 

 

 

Never saw the point in reading, myself.  If you don’t know whatever you need to know within five years of life, chances are you’ll be dead by the sixth.

 

 

 

 

 

…great.

Well, sir, a book is a lovely thing in that it rarely ever requires confirmation.  It isn’t needy, it isn’t envious, it isn’t impatient.  It exists solely to be read.  It begs to be read.  And it’s willing to wait however long it takes to be read.  Just by reading it, it loves you.  And by loving it, you read it.

Get back to them when you can.  Ignore a few hours of work now and again to treat them to some special time.  You’ll find you slip into them easily.

I am thinking about taking my partner to a nice restaurant in this coming valentines day. And give her a card with a sweet message on how much I appreciate her.

 

 

 

 

Did it work?

 

 

 

 

 

Of course it didn’t.  A nice restaurant?  A card with a sweet message?  How is that going to work?

By putting something into words, you are putting a limit—nay, a definition on your feelings for her.  You are summarizing, in fifteen words or less, how much she means to you.  When she reads it, she’ll wonder why you didn’t write out an essay.  If you wrote out an essay, she’ll think you’re being insincere.

The key is not to use words.  Words are the pomp’s tool!  The scholar’s cage!  Use emotions!  Tears in the eyes!  A tremble of the lower lip!  A manly sniff as you look away, unable to let her see you hold her in your gaze for fear that you may never look upon something so lovely again in your lifetime.

These are the keys to courtship.

 

 

 

 

 

Wait, so…courtship is just a crude manipulation of emotions through facial gestures and bodily fluids?  Why doesn’t he just piss on her, then, to make his interests clear?

 

 

 

 

 

Because some of us are romantics, you freak.

Dear Kataria,

I’ve been in a relationship with a young lady now for going on three years. We where highschool sweethearts, and are now engaged. However, I find myself attracted to men. How do I tell her this? She’s been apart of my life for so long that I can’t live without her, but I also want to be honest with myself and spend time intimately with guys who I actually physically desire. Is there a way I can break this to her and not lose her as a part of my life entirely?

 

 

 

 

Tricky thing, isn’t it?

You say you’re attracted to one sex your whole life, then suddenly things change and you’re not sure who you are, anymore.  And if you don’t know who you are, how can you decide who you like?

But maybe it’s not always about sex.  Maybe you’re attracted to people.  Person.  Her, specifically.  Maybe her sex never mattered so much.  Maybe there was something that went beyond the color of her hair or the shape of her cheekbones.  Something inside, I guess.  Or something about her, like the way the wind always seemed to play with her a little longer than most.  Maybe it was never about girls or boys or whatever.  Maybe it was just about her.  And you.  And what you were together.

And that is the good part.  Because no matter what, she’s always going to be in your life.  No matter who else you become attracted to, there’s never going to be anyone like her, ever again.  They’ll have their own special ways, their own laughs, their own wails, their own way they drink milk or eat chocolate.  But they aren’t going to be her.  She’s always going to be a part of your life, a part of you.  Nothing is going to change that.

The bad part is that it’s going to hurt like hell when you tell her.  The worse part is that you’re not going to do her any favors by prolonging it.  And the best thing you can do for her is just tell her and hope that, in time, she and you both recognize that there’s more than one way to be together.

 

 

 

 

 

…

 

 

 

 

 
What?

 

 

 

 

 

 

I never knew you had the heart of a poet.

 

 

 

 

 

What, that one guy with the weird hat?  No one can prove I killed him.

 

 

 

 

 

Yes, well…

Thank you, dear readers, once again, for your letters and your queries.  We hope we were able to provide some kind of solace for you, whether you are alone or not.  Remember to be safe out there, no matter who you’re with!

 

 

 

 

 

Or, failing that, get a good story out of it.

Good night!