The sky was deep and the stars were of fairytale quality when my last event as a public figure ended with a nice, but fairly troubling touch - a prince, most recently usurped in the Faculty Prince/Princess pageant I hosted just an hour ago, offering to whisk me away on his rental bike. Not exactly Prince Charming on his glistening white steed, but middle-class modernity often doesn't allow for much more. While I didn't exactly fall in love with Mr Tall Dark Unfamiliar, I did fall into a quagmire of reflection.
That was Moment Number Three in just one day - a perfect stranger had made himself company earlier in the afternoon's sunshine, and Prince Charming had a predecessor who stopped me as I walked out, asking if I would be okay alone in the dark. Over the last two years, too many have leaned by, flashed winning smiles and called me by the name I never gave to them. But these moments always trouble me - nice and warm as they make me feel, why do I always involuntarily drop my eyelids and frantically find excuses to turn them away?
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