A Cautionary Tale for White Knights and Good Girls…

(you should prolly read this first)

Once Upon A Time….

There existed a Black Knight we will call M, and a Damsel in Disturbia we will call E.

M was a very slick sort: good looking, smart, but more so than smart, cunning.  M could read people like an open book in a matter of seconds and somehow, in some way, just managed to know how to play anyone and everyone they ever met.  M was also disturbingly charismatic in an offhanded, almost awkward way.  Funny yet very, very intense, with eyes that could probably burn through walls and souls with equal ease.  M had an incredible gift for drawing people in, making them feel good, making them feel special, but was also just obviously off enough that M was terribly, terribly interesting and many people who met M?  Well, they wanted to know more. 

 M wasn’t particularly physically imposing, but there was something about them, their style, a way of speaking or moving or that slick, strange not quite right intensity that people found fascinating…which, of course, M learned to take advantage of.

 Because while on the outside M was alluring and magnetic and interesting, on the inside, M was a cold, hateful, wrathful, envious, twisted callous rotting shell of a soul, in pain but so hard and hardened they’d dulled themselves to it in all ways but one.  That one way?  They’d forged it into a desire to break…things.  Bones, Illusions, People, Spirits, Minds, and well, the whole damn world.  M loved victory and revenge and conquest and destruction and then looking around at all the rubble they’d left in their wake.  In short, M liked breaking and hurting people whenever the whim moved them, and if people were stupid enough to let them?  Well, then so be it.

 E was a frail sort: plenty of brains but no brawn, funny and smart, creative, attractive in a subtle, delicate way, loyal and caring and kind, but E was afflicted – for some reason- with a want and need to be something other than what they were.  Special, different, respected, the one who stood out in the crowd, and yes, because E had been kicked around- literally and in a lot of ways- important.  E was always near the center of the crowd, but never THE center of the crowd.  E was charming and fun and polite and articulate, but never quite as much as any of those things at the right time or with the right people as they wanted.  E had big dreams and big ambitions and really had everything in the form of ground work that could have sent them on a very different path: brains, personality, privilege, talents, but for E that wasn’t enough.  In truth, nothing ever was.

 On the outside E was a fun loving, kind, witty, wonderful, smart, good person from a nice family with so many things going for them, but on the inside, E never looked at the good and strong about them, only the weak and wrong and wanting.

 And one day, M met E, and in M, E saw everything they ever wanted and wanted to be, and in E, M saw a piece of meat they could rip apart and leave to rot in the dust.  The person who was always at the center but wanted to tear everything around them apart and be left alone to watch it bleed had run across the loner who wanted to be the middle of the world and the focus of  its very crowded center. It was, as they say, an instant attraction.  And the two hit it off like a house on fire.  Road trips, parties, drugs, sex, booze, long intense conversations both sober and wrecked, M feeding E’s need and ego with nothing actually helpful, but with pure poison.  But it worked.  E found themselves fully and totally in M’s grasp, and once M had them there, well, then for M, the real fun began.

 The violence, the abuse, the alternating between affection and ignoring, the snide disdain and amazing devotion.  A compliment followed by a fist followed by an apology… followed by a fist.  The insults.  The breaking down.  Beatings that ended in hospital visits and vicious words and berating that ended in tears. The horrible but also the occasional wonderful- the rare but amazing compliment, the moments where E was the only thing in M’s world, the tender façade, but that was always followed by what really lived under M’s quirky smile…and then E snapped.  Lost themselves and reality and everything else.  Went, quite literally, mad.  They were quite broken.  Drug addicted, in horrible health, mentally unsound, paranoid- wrecked, wasted, and destroyed, and in E’s head, the only thing they had left worth living for was….

 M.

 And that’s when M walked out. MissionAccomplished.  Smiling at the wreckage in their wake.  But what M did not realize was they had, in doing what they’d done, created a whole different sort of monster.  One that would always and forever now…Need.  And that monster would not let go.  No matter how many times M would kick it, it would crawl back.  No matter how many times M would hang up the phone, E would just call again.  No matter how many times M would slap, punch, burn, dose, violate, degrade, devalue and dehumanize E, E still swore to be in love with the monster who had walked out. 

 And M, being whom and what they are, grew sick of it.  There was no more fun in it; their toy was beyond broken and no good for playing with anymore.   But stuck in M’s decidedly fucked up life and head, there was E, a rotting shell of human being complete with flies that buzzed away in M’s brain endlessly.  M tried, in their own twisted way, to talk E into killing themselves…but it didn’t work…

 And E’s need made M ponder doing the job themselves, but obviously not.  Why?  Well, the why is something I do not know.  Sense of self preservation? Fear?  Maybe even some small sense of guilt?  Who knows.  Both of them are still around today, E & M.  E limps through life addicted and sick and in truth, permanently harmed both physically and mentally from M antics, probably Damaged in Countless ways beyond Repair, and not wanting repair anyway…and still in love with M.  M slips through life like a shark, often hiding what they really are under that quirky grin and strange, slightly off style, but with a long chain of a rotting E tethered to their ankle and those flies buzzing in their brains, probably also Beyond Repair and Not wanting it anyway.

 Karma?  Justice?  A deserving end for both?  Who knows…. 

 Based on A True Story.  

Black Knights and Damsels in Disturbia

Okay, see, even though I prolly will finish sexism in gaming at some point, this is a topic I can really sink my teeth into.  What makes people tick is a huge fascination of mine, and conversation, content and comments on my previous post have me wanting to dig and discuss more.  This whole “bad boy-good girl”, “white knight- damsel in distress” thing, oh hell yeah, let’s roll some with that.

And heck, for this here post, we’re taking gender outta it and just talking about, well, humans who fit these roles, because sure enough, sometimes, the sex people would assign to the title does not fit. 

 Simple fact is, the “goods” and the “knights” really are not all that different.  Their methodology might be- in some ways- but when you strip it all away, they have the basic desire to help the subject of their attention/affection.  Emotionally, physically, financially, socially, whatever- they want to go in there and take what is broken and make it all better.  Why?  Well, I think the why is a far more complex thing.  I am sure that there is in fact a real desire to help and make better with these people, but there is also an amount of ego to it.  If they can be the one to fix what’s broken, well, it pumps them up a bit (or a lot) too, to be the one who did it, to be the person who succeeded where others failed, and there is a reward seeking aspect to this too- after all, if they fixed it, are they not on some level now owed by the subject of their attention/affection (and perhaps obsession in some cases)?  Self worth and accomplishment are drawn from the fixing by “goods” and “knights”, and I think often they think their reward will be devotion, gratitude affection, respect, loyalty, and perhaps even…debt owed by the one they so went above and beyond for.  These folks, when they embark upon attempting to fix what they see as a broken or maladjusted person, are looking for validation of some sort:  they really ARE the great guy or gal, they really ARE the one who can make a difference.  Often times I suspect on some deep and perhaps even not recognized by the “goods” and “knights” level, fixing, helping or saving the subject of their interest is more about them than it is about the subject themselves.  It is more about their need to be successful and recognized and thanked for that success than anything else…especially in “goods” or “knights” who are pathological about it and seeking out opportunities to attempt this become a pattern.

 Which is why I have always thought that these people, the “goods” and the “knights” should pray to whatever god they find holy at night that when they go looking, they find someone who is going to appreciate the more altruistic aspects of their efforts and can, in some way, actually be helped by them and they don’t find themselves running across an actual Black Knight or Damsel in Disturbia…

 And what do I mean by that phrase?  Well, I mean people of either sex who are honestly – for whatever reasons- legit or not- from childhood abuse to being born wrong and missing something (tm Vlad)- Bad Eggs.  Rotten ones even.  From violent to manipulative, from sociopathic to emotional vampires, from compulsive liars to stone cold plotters- bad eggs.  Black Knights and Damsels in Disturbia.  And this is not even to say that all BK’s and DD’s can’t be fixed, but chances are, doing so is beyond the capability of the Goods and the Knights, probably requires professional help, and is only worth the effort if the BK or DD honestly and for themselves wants to change or be changed.  Some do, but it has been my experience most have no interest, but

 1)     sure as shit think it is fun as hell to wreck a “Good” or “Knight” who is stupid enough to try.

2)      or are so far down the rabbit hole of whatever the hell is going on with them, they will drain anyone who tries to help them bone dry.

 The first lot, I think of as Black Knights.  Your A-Typical “bads”. Mean, hostile, rebellious for no reason other than the joy of being rebellious…the fun is in the rebellion, not any cause. Anti-social sorts with crap tempers, jaded outlooks on everyone and everything- yet somehow they manage to be slick, charming, charismatic, and draw others to them.

 I am not talking about the surly angsty kid into punk rock or the person who has had a bad string of luck that has soured them some on life…I am talking about the near if not full on sociopathic and/or narcissistic types who have come to see the world and everything it in as something that exists for their amusement, edification and can be used and discarded at their whim or convenience.  Those are the types I am talking about.

 The second lot, I consider to be the Damsels in Disturbia, who often come across as broken, pathetic, self-loathing wretches of such unimaginable need and in such pain that those of the mind to fix them can hardly help but be taken in and compelled to assist them.    But with these sorts:  It is never enough, and it never will be.  Lavishing them in kindness and positivity and affirmation is like pissing into a hurricane because they are great sucking black holes of need, and in truth, are only ever remotely happy when they are miserable and attention and kindness and sympathy and pity are focused solely and endlessly on them.

 I am not talking about someone who is suffering from depression or is stressed out or has had a bad run of luck and is beat down and exhausted, I am talking about people who revel in misery and pain and despair and will do nothing to change anything about their situations and merely exist to suck people emotionally dry before tossing them aside and moving on to their next meal. 

 And it has also been my experience and observation that when a “good” runs across a Black Knight or a White Knight runs across a Damsel in Disturbia, it is like throwing an unarmed five-year old to the lions in the Coliseum…and even more disturbing, often times, Black Knights run in a crew of other people just like them and Damsels In Disturbia will line up a few meals all at the same time. 

 I have seen it, and I can say with some authority, it ain’t pretty.  The “Goods” and “Knights” that take this shit on?  They end up wasted and destroyed and wrung out to dry.  They get used, abused, tormented, passed around, broken, beaten up, beaten down, yanked around and can end up anywhere from financial ruin to six feet in the ground.

 And much like “Goods” and “Knights” go looking for people in need of their saving or amazing and awesome ability to love, BK’s and DD’s will look for their next victim and can generally smell fresh blood in the water.   

 Simple fact is, it’s impossible to fix anyone who merely wants to break you for kicks, and it is impossible to fill a hole that has no bottom, and no amount of goodness or love or noble intent is ever gonna change that.

 Seeing is believing, and I have seen it, watched it, dealt with it, seen how it all played out- though I ain’t never been a “Good Girl” or a “White Knight”.

*even more volatile and disturbing is when a BK hooks up with a DD, but that’s a whole different story I’m not sure I want to tell and well, those sorts sorta deserve each other, no?