Infanta Gone Astray

When I was born everything had already been planned out. From the first press conference and photo shoot to my education and spouse. Nothing was left to chance. My whole life had been decided for me before I was even conceived.

Unfortunately, they didn’t weigh in my own wishes and desires, and lack thereof.

Growing up, I was told how to behave, what to do, which sport to play, which languages to learn, which people to befriend and which to keep away from, which events to publicly attend and which to never be seen at. The protocol was long and painfully detailed.

I guess my parents meant well. I don’t want to insinuate them bad intentions. Yet, my own personality was never considered, me being different was never an option. However, I was different. Very much so. It was painful growing up. Some options were never presented to me, I had no clue there were other people like me, yet my feelings couldn’t be denied and the lack of certain other feelings couldn’t be magically summoned.

All I could do was say no and it was one of the few things I learned growing up that I treasured highly. The importance of saying ‘no’. Since most of what was expected of me as a member of the royal family felt wrong to me, I learnt to say no from an early age. It was difficult at first and too many people tried to make me do things I didn’t want to do. I was made to do things I didn’t feel comfortable doing many times and I obeyed until I broke. That was the day I said no and meant it and no one was allowed to force me to do something I didn’t want to do or be someone I was not. Going forward, saying no became my strongest ally and friend.

And it never came in more handy than on my supposed wedding day.

I was supposed to marry this Duke from some Duketistan which my grandparents decided and when that fell through my parents found this Lord from some Lordistan that I refused as well. Tension was already unbearable at that time but when I declined another engagement to some random Prince from Princiston all hell broke loose.

The fourth option wasn’t an option anymore and the wedding was planned without any of my cooperation or say in the matter. I didn’t meet the guy until an hour before I was supposed to walk down the aisle, all photos published beforehand where fake and all I had at this point was my ‘no’ which I said loudly and boldly during the ceremony.

Did I feel bad? No.

Did I feel guilty? No.

Did I feel relieved?

When the storm of paparazzi followed me for the next quadrillion days, I definitely felt a lot of resentment.

I was cut off from my family and their constant flow of money. It wasn’t a problem since they weren’t legally able to take away what was already in my name. Enough to sustain me for three lifetimes.

The press was looking for all kinds of reasons why I did what I did and many past lovers suddenly appeared out of nowhere, more than ready to be interviewed and bringing to light our secret affair, my kinks and inner most secrets. I didn’t read any of it and only left my apartment to buy snacks or get a little park time in the sun when it wasn’t too busy outside. So far my new location hasn’t been found out and all I was able to glance from a cover at a newsstand was that I was hiding with my current two or three lovers on a tropical island. They couldn’t be further from the truth.

It took me a while to adjust to my new life. No one was around anymore telling me what to do or where to be at what time. No one was around anymore nagging me about this or that, reminding me of proper protocol and behavior. I lounged on my couch all day, in pajamas. I was watching stupid shows, eating whatever I was not allowed to eat before. I was lazy, crude and truly alone. And it was heaven on earth.

One day though when I stared at the screen, not even sure anymore which show was on, my eyes roamed around my apartment, taking in details I wasn’t aware of before. It was sunny outside, the rain clouds from the previous days and weeks had disappeared and the blue sky greeted me with a warm smile. My eyes traveled back to the couch I was reclining on. It was a bright turquoise with soft cushions. It was one of the few purchases I made when I moved in, anonymously under a different name of course. It had been my most beloved possession over the last weeks and months. I stretched out and put my legs up over the armrest.

I inhaled deeply and looked at my feet. When I saw my uncut toe nails I knew I had taken it too far. I needed to find something to do, some purpose that was truly mine and no one else’s. However, I couldn’t just walk out on the street, apply at the first store that was looking for a new employee and hand in my CV.

First of all, what would I even put on my CV? Professional trained spoiled heirloom? Sure, I attended a bunch of fancy private schools. But what use was that when I was selling buns in a bakery?

Second, I couldn’t put my real name on it, but using my new fake name meant I needed to find someone who could provide me with fake documentation. Wasn’t it ironic that I learned so much yet I knew nothing? Where would I find a person who was able and willing to help me out with providing me with a fake ID?

Third, I had no idea what I wanted to do. I was trained to be a face. I was told I would represent and I needed to behave well in front of cameras and important people. That wasn’t a skill I could apply to real life jobs, was it?

I felt useless and utterly out of place on this planet. I heard people say we chose our parents before we are born. What in the name of the universe was I thinking in choosing a royal family? What good has it been for me? Nothing. That much was for sure.

While I wasn’t able to answer any deep life alternating key questions, I was able to get up, take a shower, wash my hair, take care of my nails, do laundry, get dressed in clean clothes, make my bed, wash the dishes, and be a functional adult.

It took me longer than I wanted to admit, no one was doing it for me anymore. Which I wasn’t complaining about, but I still needed to get used in how time intensive life was if you lacked a troop of maids, servants, and assistants.

It was rather random to reminiscent about the fact that all my life, there had been a bunch of people taking care of me, excluding my parents. I was never alone, really. I was always surrounded by someone who wanted to do something for me. Maybe they didn’t actually want to do it. But it was their job to do it anyway.

Now it was my job to take care of myself.

And it was my job to find a job, a task I could do. It wasn’t about the money. It was about having something to do, having a purpose that was not representation of a show.

A shit show at that.

I decided to go to the store and get some fresh food. I have been living off delivered food for a week and my body was telling me I needed to get out of this rut and walk at least a mile. So I did. Get up that is. I walked down the street to the small store that sold all kinds of fruits and veggies and I roamed the aisle to collect whatever I thought I wanted to eat.

I didn’t know stores had notice boards until I came across this one. I really liked this store because it was small and never really crowded with too many people. The owner was sitting at the cash register most of the times, sometimes some other employees were holding the line. There was always small talk involved when I was paying for my items, but they didn’t seem to know who I was. I was grateful for the anonymity and human interaction.

The notice board at the end of the store was old and probably had grown in size throughout the years with all the papers and post-its sticking to it. I once stood in front of it and looked at the different inquiries and offers. No one offered crating fake IDs though, so it wasn’t really of any worth to me.

However, today there was a new small poster attached to it and it was screaming out loud in its use of many different colors. The rainbow colored logo and the bold words typed across the page were catching my eyes and I stopped in front of it to read it.

I almost wanted to tear off the flyer to take it home, instead I took a picture with my phone. I paid for my items, wished the cashier a good day, and strolled through the park aimlessly, lost in thought. Would I want to take the risk and go to a community meeting of the local LGBTQIA+ center? I definitely did! Was I aware of possible consequences? Maybe outing myself would put an end to the current rumors. Maybe it would start a bunch of new ones, yet how was I supposed to live my life if I was afraid of what the media could possibly say about me next? Maybe they would lose interest in me if I was no longer part of the royal bunch.

I made my decision. I had to do something about my life and with myself. Joining a queer group was step one in getting my own life. I had no clue what step two would involve, but how was I able to see step two if I haven’t even looked at step one yet?

The day of the meeting approached quickly and I had gotten into a new routine of having a proper course of the day and reawakening some skills I learned so far. It was still a risk to attend a group event, but I decided it was best to go on with my fake name and background story. I had written down my life that I have invented for myself and learned the basics and some details I needed to make it convincing. I didn’t really need all of it, but I didn’t want to risk outing myself within the first five minutes of my introducing myself to new people.

The community center was smaller than I expected and older and more rundown as well. It basically was an abandoned building that no one wanted and was claimed by us and turned into a place where we could meet. Was that a place where I wanted to hang out? I had to admit that I was a bit wary about the safety of this location. When I learned that a few kids were actually living there temporarily in lieu of having a place of their own, I was flabbergasted. I probably shouldn’t have asked, but their answers why they couldn’t afford an apartment and how they weren’t able to get jobs stunned me. My lack of real life knowledge was greater than I actually was aware of. I was sheltered from anything remotely real for all of my life and at this point I was even hiding in my own apartment paid with the money I got for doing nothing of importance.

And then I was in the middle of a community meeting in which everyone was talking about tight finances and how they struggled to pay for the bills or what else they could do to reach possible donors.

It was too much to handle for me so I got up and left early. I knew nothing about the logistics and my head was spinning. None of my former contacts were any good and I didn’t want to wake sleeping dogs. So I needed to do things on my own.

I contacted the first lawyer that seemed to be able to help and knew what I wanted from her. I told her exactly what I had in mind and since she was a community member herself, she was climbing on board without any convincing needed from my part.

Within a week I was able to purchase the whole lot with the old rundown building and when I attended the next meeting, people were tense and feared the worst. Before anyone was drawing anymore devils on the wall, I told everyone I was the new owner. Gasping mouths stared at me. The lady who had run the show so far looked like she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to strangle or thank me.

Before I gave her the chance to choose the first option, I explained that I had hired an architect who would be designing a new place that would offer more space, including rooms in which people could stay for however long they wanted or needed, a kitchen and a cafeteria, a play room as well as a study room, and I was sure we would be able to figure out what else we should add to the list of things the architect needed to include.

No one said anything until I was asked by a random voice who I was. All I could think of to say was that I was a member of our family and I hoped a shy A that preferred to stay in the closet for now would be welcome here as well.

*A little note at the end: In case you are wondering what the “A” the MC is referring to in the last paragraph is supposed to be – It is the “A” in LGBTQIA+ and stands for “asexual” which is a sexual orientation. It is an umbrella term for many different ways how an individual can be; in short it could be defined as not feeling sexual attraction to others, or having a low or absent interest in or desire for sexual activity.