Again, I know this isn’t a new subject. I’m well aware of this. I know that everyone and their aunt has written about Anne Lister since her diaries were translated, and especially once Gentleman Jack came out.
First, Claire Heuchan wrote this fantastic article that details all the ways that Anne Lister was a Fuccboi – seriously, great article. She was definitely a Victorian Fuccboi, tho.
Anyway, Anne and her wife, Ann Walker, were like exploring in the mountains of what was then Russia, she got an insect bite, then died of a fever a few weeks later. Historians are confident the bite came from a tick.
I’ve now added tick bite to the list of shit I’m terrified of, including but not limited to : camping, hiking, being around homicidal wildlife to the list of shit to avoid.
I tend to hyperfocus on the most random details about people, usually surrounding death and causes of. Like, for instance, Lully smacked himself in the toe with his conductor’s staff and died of gangrene. First of all, why the fk didn’t he use the little air stick? I mean, this wasn’t like a cute walking stick, it was like this big ass heavy thing, like solid wood.
So yeah, won’t be using one of those when I absolutely never conduct an orchestra. See? I make contingencies for things I know I will NEVER do.
ANYWAY….
Why did Anne Lister have to go out like that? I mean, for real.
Honestly, I’m surprised Shibden Hall didn’t get torched by one of the many women she played with and ghosted. No, seriously, she would pursue these women, get them invested, play with their emotions, sleep with them, then dip. At least now-a-days, most of this happens via text and not in person. The drill is pretty much a formula now – a player/fuccboi sends you all of these beautiful words and tells you all the sweet complimentary gooey things, gets you invested, then out of nowhere…they go cold, then ghost you for days or weeks, then zombie back up and then attempt to rinse and repeat.
It’s a different vibe than two people talking who get busy, lose touch for a minute, then start texting again, I want to make that clear. It’s all in the words they say and use, and the emotional pace and tone they set, and there is a significant difference.
I mean at least there’s a screen in between us and the Fuccbois in this day and age for fks sake. We don’t necessarily even have to see them every day.
In the 1800’s, all of that stuff happened in person, live in real time, right in front of your face. Plus, I guess because it was way more dangerous to be openly gay back then, the women she discarded couldn’t even call her out for it. Lame. Seriously, these women had to sit there with her in their social circle and not only pretend they weren’t attracted to women, but also pretend she hadn’t just taken out their heart and stomped on it.
Except for maybe Tib, because Tib gave literally not one single fk and said what she said when she wanted to say it…but that’s a different blog post. Look Tib up – she was a masterpiece.
Okay, anyway, I squirreled…
But I really hate that she went out that way. I mean, at the end of her life, she actually was on the verge of doing so many fking amazing things. She settled down and quit being a player, had a wife, traveled, had aggressive business ventures in the works…
Although, she wasn’t really the best person in regard to her political views and use of child labor – let me pause and say that. She bullied her tenants and evicted them if they opposed her religious or political beliefs, had literal five year olds working down in the mines, opposed fair wages and worker reforms…I mean she was literally a fking tyrant.
Huh. Maybe the tick bite wasn’t a bad way to go out after all – considering she was kind of a bastard.
See? Nothing I blog makes sense. I don’t plan these. I just write, squirrel, and make sure my facts are as accurate as I can.