What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet
Shakespeare said it best. The words we used to describe the things of this world give them their meaning and substance.
Which brings me to today's Matey topic. I grappled with making this a work of a fiction or a blog post and finally decided to save all fictional stories for my book: "Matey Chronicles: A Mistress' Tale".
Yes, I'm still writing just not publishing publicly for copyright reasons. Nothing before its time.
Alas I digress. Back to the topic at hand:
Wives call themselves Mrs. upon receiving their beloved marital band from their object of affection. An honorific title. Status defined.
The evolution of woman's role and rank is ironic to say the least. A position of prominence sharing its title with its arch-nemesis.
The wife, the Mrs., the owner for the man is constantly at war with her counterpart, the Mistress.
The charlatan who dares to separate her mans affections, a bothersome distraction. A source of ongoing contempt and dismay. The Mistress stands on the outskirts of marital bliss, blowing airs of disruption. A hurricane brewing on the high seas.
If it wasn't for that simple dot, a mere abbreviation, both wifey and matey would be known by the exact same name.
A play on words -- in a patriarchal world, women rarely get the last laugh. Trapped in the reality of choosing between being a wife or a mate, she relinquishes her fate readily to another. The owner of her heart.
Her man, her lover, her Master.
belongs to noone but the Divine Creator of All Things.