“Deconstruction ‘deconstructs the ideological biases (gender, racial, economic, political, cultural) and traditional assumptions that infect all histories, as well as philosophical and religious ‘truths’.”
“I think you’re going to have a fantastic time,” Faith gushed, “I mean it’s Doyle, right? How could you not have a good time?”
“Right, I mean you two have always been so close…Do you think it’ll be weird, Buffy?” Willow asked curiously.
“Do you know where he’s taking you?” Faith asked.
“I don’t know,” Buffy answered, feeling dazed. After sipping her coffee, she nervously set it down, deciding that perhaps she didn’t need it so much after all. She already felt anxious, any more coffee and she would spontaneously combust.
“I think you should do something really fun,” Faith continued.
“Isn’t that the point of a date?” Buffy asked, knowing whatever she offered to this particular discussion wouldn’t be considered anyway.
“I hear there’s a carnival opening this weekend,” Willow offered.
“Oooh! You’ve always wanted to do that for a date, haven’t you, Buffy?” Willow said excitedly.
“A carnival would be fun, but maybe embarrassing. Your hair’s a mess, you’re screaming…” Faith said, wrinkling her nose.
It was funny. Here Buffy sat in her own home with her friends over dinner and she felt completely out of place. She didn’t even feel as though she were in the room, or attached to the chair she sat in. She felt like an outsider, as if she was just the subject of an experiment and really, she didn’t even need to be there. They could come up with their hypotheses about how she should date and live her life, and she’d do it like some kind of automaton. Later, she’d report back to them and they would amend their plan as they saw fit until she got it right. In a way, she felt as though that was just what she needed, and in another way, she found it frustrating. Buffy didn’t feel that she had said yes to Doyle, but she had somehow said yes to them – her friends. Like up until that moment she hadn’t been granted their stamp of approval, and now she had, so all would be well with the world and with her. Buffy wished she could have some of that good cheer. Mostly, she just felt numb.
Looking around at all the faces that surrounded her, she was struck by the different female roles in the room with her. There was Willow, the saint, Faith the mother, and her—the whore. Course, she was a mother now too. And Faith was a former whore—okay, so the whole analogy didn’t exactly pan out. However, Faith had found a solid man and in true chick lit fashion, had settled down, tamed her wild ways, and was enjoying her new role in life as mother and mate – it was as if it were the role she’d been meant to play all along. Then there was Willow, the virtuous. She’d never slept around or even dated all that much, and if she did, they inevitably turned into serious monogamous relationships. She’d been with possibly three men since she lost her virginity in college, and had stayed with the cherry-popper until she’d graduated. She was vigilant in her dating: Willow knew what she wanted and didn’t settle for less. Last, but not least: The Whore. Buffy unknowingly had an affair with a married man on the first night she met him only to later end up pregnant with said married man’s baby and now she was on the cusp of having a date with her virtuous male (was that an oxymoron, she wondered) best friend, and she found she was still hung up on the married man. Doyle was her Mr. Knightly, her Mr. Darcy, and Spike was her Frank Churchill and Mr. Wickam. Spike was all a good young lady did not trifle with.
Except, what happens when the young lady is not good herself? Certainly, she does not get to trifle with the likes of Mr. Knightly or Mr. Darcy. Surely, she gets banished to the likes of Frank Churchill and Mr. Wickam.
On Spike’s end there was Oz – a seemingly virtuous man – whom was with Willow. He had been, after all, the one to come forward and disclose Spike’s secret. So, if Faith was their whore with a heart that found redemption, and they already had a saint – where did that leave Buffy?
She didn’t feel deserving of Doyle. What does one do when one doesn’t feel deserving of another? And what does one do when the one they should be fit for, doesn’t fit the bill either – was it possible that Spike was too bad for her? Perhaps she was metamorphosing and when she came out the other side; she’d be fit for someone that was neither Spike nor Doyle.
Perhaps what was in order was a new thought process. Or to just stop thinking altogether. Better to over think than to not think at all, right? It’d be nice if there was some middle ground however. If she could find some communion with her thoughts, feelings, needs and desires, of that which she deserved and of that which she did not deserve.
Looking to Brandon smiling slightly at her in his swing set up in the kitchen, Buffy was struck with the thought that perhaps it was not Doyle she should be concerned with being worthy of, but Brandon instead. He was the epitome of virtuous. He was untouched, an innocent. He was her clean slate, not Spike who helped taint her and not Doyle who knew of her already tarnished existence. With him, she could find rebirth. So, perhaps there was room for another whore with the heart of gold among her friends. Time would tell.
“So, what do you think, Buffy hmmm? Where do you want to go with Doyle?” Willow asked.
Buffy smiled at her friend and sipped her coffee once more. “Not sure. I haven’t put much thought into it. Just thought I’d let things happen as they will.”
The thing with moments of clarity and peace is that they never lasted very long. They were like a window into how things could be if you fully freed yourself from all restraints and worries, but if you shut that window…you were back to a self-doubting, worried mess feeling locked in and alone in your fears.
With sweaty palms, Buffy smoothed out her tan Capri’s and a green sleeveless turtleneck. Doyle had told her to dress casual. He said she needed to be able to move. She thought perhaps the moisture alone from her palms could have served as the steam in which to press her clothes. She was that nervous. It was better than being nonchalant, right? At least she cared. That had to mean something.
Willow and Oz were in her living room, having come over to spend some time together whilst taking care of Brandon for her. So, on top of being nervous about going out with Doyle, she was wreck over having to leave Brandon for the first time since he’d been born. Luckily, she had switched over from breast feeding to bottles so that would curb some of her worry, though she still tended to leak at times…but hey, that’s what special bra’s that helped in that area were for! Plus, a cardigan.
“Buffy!” Willow hissed, bursting into her room, causing Buffy to jump a mile. “Doyle’s here.”
“You scared the crap out of me,” Buffy hissed back. “I think my heart just leapt up to my throat. Thank you.”
Willow giggled. “Sorry. You ready?”
“I think so. How do I look?”
“You look nice. Comfortable.”
“Not trashy?”
“Not at all.”
“Okay.” Buffy took one…two…three deep breaths.
“You’re going to be fine, Buffy,” Willow assured her.
Putting her hand over her mouth, Buffy expressed her concern. “What if it’s a disaster?”
“What if it’s not? What if that’s what scares you more?”
“Then black is white and heaven is hell,” Buffy replied.
“Exactly. Come on,” Willow took her hand and drug Buffy out of the room.
Entering the living room where Doyle was chatting with Oz, in jeans and a t-shirt, his hair combed neatly, looking comfy and secure, like so much her best friend and yet something else – Buffy smiled.