A Knightly Tale …..Continued

Humble, battered and apologetic to any Van City women that I may have offended (the truth can sting), I have returned fair readers to continue my knightly tale.

If you are just joining this story for the first time, the story begins here with A Knightly Tale and continues below ….

Red headed maiden groveling before the passing Blue Sultan by Alaskan Dude.

Now, I had almost lost faith that I would ever come across a maiden of such qualities, until I stumbled across this blog.  The exploits of Emme Rogers – while not always conforming to the code of knightly conduct – have captivated me.  She may not admit to it, but in a way, I can feel that she is restless, searching, waiting for a knight in shiny armour to kneel down before her.

Sterling kneel cropBWlg by twistedhaloproductions.

For now, I will observe her trails and tribulations from a distance, waiting for that perfect moment, when the setting sun best brings out the bronze sheen of my suit of armour (hand-crafted by the best German blacksmiths).

Castle At Sunset by Fugue.

Photo by Anton Raath

A knight does not ask much of his maiden – only to give him her perfumed handkerchief, so he may wear it close to his heart in battle.  But in return, she will receive top notch gallantry – not just the fleeting charm of a night with a George Clooney-type.  We knights, at times, don’t appear all that attractive, I have to admit.  But hey, you come back from a 3-month crusade, stuck inside the same suit of armour day and night, with no soap or shaving cream in sight – you’re not going to look (or smell) like friggin’ Leonardo do Caprio, either!  But we’re tough and battle-hardened, and when we do find a treasure, we will fight to keep it.  So, female readers, listen up!  If you’re looking for real passion and an unselfish guy, give the George Clooney-types a pass!  Everything falls into their laps.  They don’t have to exert themselves, they don’t have to prove themselves.  They may even be complete failures in the bedroom and never know it, because there is another girl already waiting in line.  Women of the world!  If you’re looking for quality, give the knights a try – and possibly also the inconspicuous nerdy guys.  You will not be disappointed!  THEY have to fight for their women.  Therefore, they will do their utmost to please them in every way imaginable.

I do not know, if these insights will have any bearing on the capers of Emme and her entourage.  Perhaps she will dismiss my comments as useless drivel.  But I will not stand idly by, as the world of gallantry goes to the dogs.  There is room for knights, even in this time and place.  You just have to start believing that they exist!

At your humble service,

Sir von Ritter, noble knight of the order of Balaenoptera

The Fellas

international man of mystery by *sean.

As some of you may have noticed, a couple of fellas have joined us writing on Sexy In Van City as of late.  Neither Sid nor Sir von Ritter are Van City Boys, but I for one can attest to the sexiness of both of these fine, fine gentlemen.  And I really can’t help it if I am an International Woman of Mystery and attract my men from all over the world, now can I?  No Sexy In Van City Gal should ever have to apologize for our international appeal.  At any rate, I do hope that as you read more from these two handsome fellas that you grow just as fond of them as I am.

by the pool (other side) by madabandon.

Much love,

Emme

PS. Sir von Ritter promises to finish “A Knightly Tale” as soon as he is able to pries himself loose from the grips of his Van City fantasies.

A Knightly Tale (a belated Valentines turned Birthday letter)

A dark night shrouds the misty moor. A fragrance of peat and decay is carried upon the breeze and a white mist wafts in slowly from the seashore. A ray of moonlight is reflected off a shiny steel surface. The glint of the knight’s armour betrays his presence. Yet, he moves stealthily and with purpose. In his gloved right hand he carries a dagger – dull and battered from use on countless foes. The knight twirls the dirk around in his fingers expertly – as if it were a baton. He stops dead in his tracks, as the cry of an owl pierces the night. As always, the hooters are vigilant, while the great tits rest…

Knight Templar by Creativity+ Timothy K Hamilton.

Photo by Timothy K Hamilton

Hey – obviously, I’m talking about nocturnal birds of prey and diurnal songbirds here, you immature moron! Well, now that the mood is broken, I might as well admit that the misty moor is nothing but Stanley Park in Vancouver. The description of the fragrance is pretty much accurate, but the shiny armour consists of blue jeans and a raincoat. The dagger is a cellphone. But the knight is for real! That would be me! Allow me to introduce myself with a flourish and a bow: Sir von Ritter, at your service!

Hello Vancouver by Stuck in Customs.

Photo by Trey Ratcliffe

I have come over from ye olde Europe on a special quest. As you can imagine, it’s quite difficult to be a knight in our modern-day world. Not the least of my worries is the search for a worthy female companion. Where have all the fair maidens gone? In Europe, they are few and far between. So, now I have turned my gaze to the new continent (thus also escaping competition with other knights, since there are far fewer castles in Canada than, say, in Southern France). If you’re going through all the trouble of entering the dragon’s lair and risking life and limb to kill the beast, then you want to be pretty certain that she does not just give you a thanks-very-much kiss-goodbye on the cheek (in the face! Not that other cheek, you silly twat!) and then runs off with some George Clooney-type, or whatever strikes her fancy.

Another issue that makes courtship difficult for us knights, is that when you behave gallantly towards a woman, it is rarely taken as a compliment among equals (as a knight intends). When e.g. you hold the door open for her, spread your cape across a puddle before she steps in, or scale the deadly cliffs of Akravnar just to pick one of the incomparable Lashtavar roses for her – then the usual reactions are something like:

1) She thinks you’re gay (and by that I do mean the homosexual kind of gay, not the medieval cheerful happy kind of gay).

2) She thinks you’re being a chauvinist pig and want to belittle her, not accepting that she is very capable of scaling the deadly cliffs of Akravnar ALL BY HERSELF, thank you very much!

3) She likes the attention and starts to behave like a diva, snapping her fingers and growing ever more demanding of her knight, until he realizes that she is really just one lazy, exploitive bitch.

I want to emphasize that I have no time for the fragile little princesses whose main concern in life is the colour of the ribbons in their hair and who faint at the sight (or smell) of horse manure. The fair maiden I’m talking about knows how to defend the castle, is an expert at picking the chastity belt-locks of her unfortunate princess-type neighbours and tells her knight outright that he looks terrible in red tights.

Chivalry by Myrmi.

Photo by Myrmi

****PLEASE STAY TUNED – WE INTERRUPT THIS POST AS SIR VON RITTER IS TEMPORARILY LEFT INCAPABLE OF WRITING AFTER BEING ATTACKED BY AN ONSLAUGHT OF VANCOUVER WOMEN WIELDING – MAN PURSES FOR HIM AND TELLING HIM HE LOOKS ‘JUST DARLING’, TRENDY MAIN STREET ORIGINAL HAND BAGS AND ACCUSING HIM OF BEING A ‘CHAUVINISTIC EUROPEAN BASTARD’ IN BETWEEN SMACKS, AND DESIGNER PURSES WORN ON THE SHOULDERS OF PERFECTLY COIFFED YALE TOWN DIVAS DEMANDING THAT HE TAKE THEM SHOPPING ON ROBSON – MORE TO COME ONCE WE ENTANGLE OUR DASHING KNIGHT FROM THEIR GRASP*******