Reign’s Rape Problem

The Belle Jar

TW for rape

When I first heard about the CW show Reign, I knew that it was going to be my next guilty pleasure. A young Mary Stuart and her ladies-in-waiting living with Catherine de’Medici in Renaissance France? Yes please. Court intrigue and awkward teenage romance? Yes please. Weird pagans in the woods and flower crowns and a murderous queen and a (very anachronistically hot and young) Nostradamus? DOUBLE YES PLEASE. PASS THE FLOWER CROWNS, SON, I’M IN.

I talked my friend into watching it with me, and by the end of the first episode we were both hooked. We would make a ritual out of it – order a pizza, get a bottle of wine, and then sit down to make fun of plot holes and not-very-historically-accurate clothing and overblown teenage FEELINGS for an hour. But as much as we giggled over the poor life choices of the characters, and as…

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The last spoon?

It’s been a while, about a year and a half actually. I don’t miss sex so much, not anymore, I miss love. I don’t miss it all the time, just sometimes like tonight when I’m a bit tired and I’m climbing into bed alone. I miss that moment when your other half climbs in next to you and you both lie down and your skin touches. I miss putting my head on someone’s chest and feeling the warmth of a mans body next to me. I miss spooning, having someone’s arm wrapped around your body. And I miss feeling loved, by a man. It passes, but sometimes I wonder if I will ever feel these things again and if I do, how long will it last this time.