The idea of selecting the right Norse god for
dating, or perhaps even setting up your granddaughter with one, comes with its
own set of important rules. While the rules are not terribly complicated, they can
be a bit particular. Having some knowledge of the underlying mythology can be
helpful, but it's not mandatory. You can always cross-reference the Edda, but
with so many translations and versions out there, the names can get a bit
murky. Plus the Edda was written forever ago. I can’t tell you how many times
I’ve seen the gods and goddesses get together and break up. Fight one another
and then hold hands a few days later while their wounds were still healing. The
truth lies within the depths of various theories about the multiple identities
of gods, goddesses, and even giants. To get to that depth and uncover the
truth, you need to get them to trust you and open up.
Now, let's dive into the list, shall we?
Rule 1: Refrain from explicitly revealing your
preferences to your granddaughter (or your chosen family member). There's a
high likelihood of immediate rejection.
Norse gods and goddesses, it turns out, don't handle
rejection gracefully. Proceed with caution when making specific promises or
agreements. It is often better not to formalize any arrangements, as there are
often loopholes or gray areas to contend with. (And yes, I speak from learned
experience – thanks, Loki.)
Rule 2: Avoid disclosing to your chosen date that
they are going out with a Norse god. The gods tend to get nervous that people
are only interested in them for their abilities or the perceived power
associated with their mythology. And don't even think about explaining to your
granddaughter that she's not just an ordinary person; that's a whole different
topic and doesn't need to be addressed formally in this matchmaking process.
This little issue may also not pertain to your own
lineage.
Rule 3: Beware of the quiet ones. While Loki may be
flashy, it's often the reserved gods who sweep people off their feet. Consider
the concept of "love language," a term I'm still trying to
comprehend. Ensure that your intended couple is genuinely compatible in all the
important ways.
Rule 4: Don't bother arguing with the Goddess Freya.
She always seems to be one step ahead, and if you divulge your intentions,
she's likely to manipulate outcomes in her favor. She's a wonderful lady, but
her meddling tendencies can be unhelpful because she has her own set of rules
when it comes to matters of the heart.
Rule 5: Do everything in your power to keep Loki
away from the matchmaking process, unless you want unexpected twists and turns
that were never part of the plan. (See rule 1.)
Rule 6: Remember, you cannot force a romantic
connection. No matter how tempting it might be, love follows its own course.
Freya will kindly remind you of this, and then she’ll meddle. The gods and
goddesses may shape destiny, but they also revel in a compatible partner to
come home to.
The most perfect pairing I’ve ever seen was Baldr
and his wife Nanna. Poor Nanna fell down and died of grief when he passed.
Rule 7: If you decide to aim high and pursue a
relationship with Thor, refrain from mentioning his hammer. He tends to go
overboard with it and takes great pleasure in showing it off. Over the years,
he's realized that it's an excellent conversation starter, and I personally find
it quite ridiculous how much he enjoys swinging it around.
In the end, there's someone out there for everyone.
While Ingrid, my granddaughter, naturally deserves the best, feel free to take
a chance with the others. Just remember that the Norse gods and goddesses are
quite clever. They love passionately and openly but aren't keen on having their
hearts trampled. Instead, they relish a well-thought-out courtship.
Now that the rules are laid out let’s take a fika. The
coffee is hot and I’ve some fresh cookies to share. Come sit close and tell me
who you’ve got your eyes on.
I won’t tell a living soul.
I’m great at keeping secrets.
I promise.
Excerpt:
“Show yourself, you meddling woman,” I say, probably too stern for a granddaughter. She did this to herself.
“Oh, relax. You had fun, didn’t you?” Mormor’s voice projects from the living room.
“You had no business showing up tonight. My social life is mine.” I kick off my shoes in the entry and cut across to the warmth of the lit fireplace. She’s kept herself busy.
“Oh, sit down,” she scolds me from the purple wingback chair, like the child she believes I still am.
Hard to say no to your grandmother, even if you don’t really know her. For civility’s sake, I take my place in the leather chair on the other side of the fireplace, garnering an unobstructed view of her. The heat and flames of the fireplace illuminate the bridge etched into the back of the black stone, only visible when the temperature hits high enough. She’s been waiting.
“Did you have fun?” The chair creaks as she adjusts her legs. “You two were adorable together.”
“So you said at the restaurant. Directly to him.” The energy it takes to argue isn’t worth the effort right now. Opting for a tone of juvenile annoyance takes less energy. “Can you please stay out of my personal life? Can this be something we agree to?”
“Absolutely not. You’ll blow it. Look at your track record. You need me.” She waves off my request. “Besides, it was one date, and of course that boy ended up there too.”
Ah, so she didn’t send him. Sweet. “Thatboy?“ I ask.“Yes, the one with the instrument and the curls in his hair. The one who’s been fixing things here.” Mormorisn’t holding back niceties.
“Kurt?” I grin. “What do you have against Kurt?” Reveling in this is wrong, but so right.
“You need someone with their feet on the ground. Someone like Yale.” She sits high like a queen in her court.
“What do you know about him?” I’m not arguing. Who knows how long she’s been popping in and out of my life?
“I know what I need to.” She lengthens her neck. “Why even bother with him?”
“Ah, so you know nothing.” Makes two of us, really. Other than being kind, talented, and someone to joke around with, he’s a mystery. A mystery who’s comfortable to be around, but sometimes makes butterflies flutter in my chest. Yale makes me awkward and nervous. Ugh,I’m overanalyzing again. Inside me there’s a constant nag when I’m around Yale that he’s not a good idea. Not that Kurt’s a good idea.
“Let’s clarify something. I’m not going back until I know you are okay.” Mormor stares off at the fire. A gentle breeze whistles through the windows and flutters the edges of her hair.
“Is this a promise or a threat?” Please stay, for at least a while longer. I like getting to know her when she’s not meddling. Half the reason I agreed to move out here was to learn more about my family.
I suppose I should thank her. Dinner ended when the menu she was holding too close to the wall sconce caught fire and we had to run outside. Serves her right for spying and not paying attention. There’s nothing quite like the smell of melting plastic to inflict headaches and end a date quickly.
He was kind enough to walk me home after I made the first turn in the wrong direction. I’d have made it eventually. His gentlemanly self was fantastic. It was the long periods of not talking and staring at the candle that made me want to bolt.
“You know I love you.” I open my arms for a hug.
She turns non-corporeal and laughs as my arms slice through her.
Mormor! “What are the rules here? When are you—you? And when are you a ghost?” I stamp my voice like a toddler mid-tantrum, adding extra emphasis at the beginning of each sentence.
“You were going to squeeze me too hard.” She’s right. “When I’m tired, I fade a bit. I don’t like where I go when I fade.”
A tiny over-the-top squeeze to make her feel as uncomfortable as I felt with Yale is deserved, tight enough so she knows I’m squeezing love and the want of a direct connection with her.
“Where you go?” Legitimate question.
“I have to go somewhere? What? You think I’m like a fading light?”
I shrug. “Sorry, I don’t have experience with—ghosts?”
“We’ve been over this.” She rolls her eyes. “The rules are murky.” She pulls at the low braid on the back of her head.
“Oh, is that all?” This woman is off her rocker.
“It’s complicated.” She crosses her arms and huffs. “Haven’t you bothered doing your research?”
“This isn’t something I can research.” Hello, librarian, I keep seeing my dead grandmother. Do you have any books on this?
My jaw drops—this was an intentional diversion. “You’re trying to get sympathy and distract me from the fact you interrupted in the most inappropriate way on a date.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Caught me. You still need to think about dating a proper choice. I’m holding my ground on this.”
“Proper?” Again, with that word. “I don’t need to date anyone. I’m here to watch the house.”
She comes over and envelopes me in a too-hard hug.
I wheeze. “Besides it wasn’t a date, it was two people going to dinner.”
The unsuccessful wiggle of my arms proves Mormor’s ghost form is stronger than she lets on.
“Dating doesn’t mean a relationship.” I peck her cheek. “Having dinner once or twice is getting to know someone.”
She releases her arms and slinks back in her chair. “Don’t end up alone, Ingrid.” A tremble crosses her tone.
“I’ve got you. How can I be alone?”
“You know very well what I mean. You’ve squandered your twenties, and now—”
“I got an education and lived life.” There it is. Clear disappointment I’ve caused her in my life choices. “I traveled and dated. Not everyone finds themselves in their early twenties.”
“Will you consider dating while you are here? He’s really a nice boy.”
“I’m here to maintain the house. Not to date.” I’m over dating.
“Being here doesn’t mean you can’t date.”
I shake my head. She’s relentless.
Mormor waves her hand in front of the fire, and the flames dance higher. “Yale is…” She wags her eyebrows. “Kurt is…” A hovered eye roll punctuates the end of her sentence.
“A friend.” Sort of—he’s working here because Svea paid him.
Mormor grumbles something inaudible from my seat. “I have a list of projects for you. Promise me you’ll stay till you finish some?” She pulls her arm back to the chair and rests her hands on her lap.
“I’m a fill-in. The only person available with no ties to kids or an office.” Story of my life. The living family members call when they remember my existence. Supposedly they love me, but…eh, baggage to think about another day, right? “Promise me you won’t mess up Kurt’s projects on the house?” He works hard regardless of her impression of him.
“As long as he sticks to the house as a project and not you.” She wags her finger and heaves a sigh.
A halfhearted nod is the only option to end this conversation. “Tea?”
I’m not a project.
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