Medievalized

When Brian and I were at the stained glass museum at Navy Pier two weeks ago, we learned a new word: medievalized.

I've been dying to use it since then, and I've had the idea for this blog post for a long time. So here goes:

My medievalized life

Last year was the first year I dated someone who would have been a medieval warrior, had we lived in the Middle Ages. Actually, he wouldn't have been an in-the-trenches warrior himself, but a commander of an army. He was a strategist: cool, calculating and overconfident. It was quite a departure for me.

It's probably well it didn't work out. Being with the warrior-type makes me long for deep philosophical conversations, romance, and an appreciation of art and music.

I'm usually attracted to the type of men who would have worn flouncy shirts and spent their days writing poetry under trees. Perhaps they'd laud the land's fine warriors in verse, or compose the songs of battle. They definitely would not have joined in the fray themselves.

As much as I love them, they're usually a little too sedentary, a little too introspective, for a fulfilling relationship. I have enough introspection to go around. Being with other artists makes me restless for adventure.

I've also been known to fall for the priest-types (well, that would have been illegal then, of course) and those with political ambition, perhaps the town mayor.

Because women were generally absent from theology and politics, these would have never worked out. I would not have been content to be the spouse of a priest or politician. I would have caused trouble by being to outspoken or competent in my husband's line of work.

Who would I have been? There would have been pressure to marry, of course. Since women weren't considered good for much else in the Middle Ages. I could escape marriage by joining a convent. Probably would have. Or I could have retreated to a hillside cottage by myself and become an eccentric, considered a witch by the townsfolk.

If I were forced to marry, the best option would probably have been to wed a scholar. He'd have to have been liberated enough to put up with my desire to read (heaven forbid!) and take an interest in his work. We would find adventure and poetry and art in the world of books together. Perhaps we'd have a secret school for girls, or hold salons in our home for the intelligentsia.