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www.mybaycity.com July 15, 2012
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Thinking Out Loud
Getting Personal

July 15, 2012       Leave a Comment
By: Diane Szczepanski

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"How do I love thee? Let me swat the ways" ~ Diane Szczepanski

I find everything about the glorious days of summer irresistible. Save one...

I DO NOT LIKE BEES.

Yes, nature lovers, I do understand their importance in the pollination of our planet. What YOU may not understand is the pure terror that their buzzing, evil wings strike in my heart.

You may not appreciate the shame I felt, doing the Watusi in my driveway in front of my neighbors. The hem of my sun dress firmly clasped in my white-knuckled hands, as a curious 'Pollinator From Hell' decided to explore the underside of my fashionable, yet evidently vulnerable, summer dress.

Bees may be nothing more than a curious fancy to the Beekeepers (read: MASOCHISTS) of the world, who walk lovingly amongst bees en masse.

To this girl, these stinging minions dispatched from Satan himself, produce nothing short of pure, child-like terror in an otherwise relatively fearless and strong adult.

There are no valid explanations for this faint-hearted reaction.

No suppressed memories of being swarmed as a toddler. No emergency, life threatening, allergic reactions that I've experienced and lived to tell the tale of.

Truth be told? I've never even been stung.

This fear is totally irrational, unfounded and a bit over the top. I understand this. Quirky as it is though, it's who I am and I figure if I can live with it, without feeling like less a person, surely there must be one other human in the world, of the opposite sex, who can too?

Suffice to say, some of my experiences to date, have been with men who did not accept this unreasonable fear of bees I have, as part of who I am.

They tended to forget somewhere along the relationship path, just how strong, tough and capable I have proven myself to be in so many other situations. Or the multitudes of things I am NOT afraid of.

Often, their solution to my panicked filled reaction of a bee hovering anywhere near me, looking for tender flesh to unleash its stinging aggression on, has always been a condescending, "Geez Diane, it's just a little bee, they won't bother you, if you don't bother them".

This usually said with eyes rolled, a definite 'get over it' inflection in their tone of voice and noticeable inertia to act anything even remotely resembling chivalrous on my behalf.

So, as I sat on my deck recently during a fine summer day, with a cold beverage in one hand and my intuition ever at attention for incoming buzzing attackers, I came to a realization.

In the future, perhaps I will know my soul mate, dream man, knight in shining armor, as it were, not by the car he drives, the size of his bank account or his status in the community.

It won't be his bicep definition, his pretty long eyelashes or how he wears his jeans.

I will know the capacity and tenderness of his heart, not by how much he'll spend on me at dinner, but by the simple fact he'll shoo a bee away from me. More importantly, he'll do it before I have to beg in a choked, high-pitched voice.

He'll do it because he knows being scared of a teeny, tiny bee sting, doesn't diminish my accomplishments, define my skills and or provide the barometer of competence in the many other areas of life.

But, you know what?

I think he'll do it for the simplest reason of all...because he loves me.

Now, how did I get from expressing my joy of summer, to my loathing for bees, to what I'll look for in a possible future partner in my life?

I'm not quite sure actually. But, I do know this.

I may be fending off some of the things I fear this summer all on my own and I'll be just fine, like I always am.

However....maybe, just maybe, it will be on one of these hot summer days I love so much, that someone comes along and much to my surprise, shoos that bee away without me asking.

The stinging 'Pollinators From Hell' could turn out to be a blessing in disguise and I might find it in my heart to forgive them for tormenting me so many years.

Life can be strangely ironic at times.

My 'Prince Charming' might not be riding in on a white horse, he might be the one with a fly swatter or rolled up newspaper in his hand and a willingness to protect me from what I fear....

And all things being equal, at the end of the day, isn't that what we all want?



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February 10, 2020
by: Rachel Reh
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Diane Szczepanski

Business-woman by day, confessed boot addict by night and 'wanna-be' writer, music lover and proud Mom of an awesome guitar playing, teen son.

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