The common misconception when it comes to a queen bee is that she rules the colony and all the worker bees answer to her whilst pandering to her every need. She doesn't and they don't. A queen bee's primary purpose is to lay eggs so new workers hatch and keep the hive buzzing (boom boom!). As we're aware, the term "Queen Bee" has been adopted for use in social situations to describe the dominant female in a group of people. I am a Queen Bee. Its not an intentional thing, I didn't suddenly decide that I wanted to hold court and be centre of attention, its just something that happened and has been the case ever since I can remember.
Just like in the hymenopteran world, no two Queen Bees can exist in the same social circle. Not in their truest form, anyway. In hives, it leads to death, usually carried out by loyal worker bees when an unwanted new queen bee infiltrates the apiary. In the human world one has to tone down her dominant nature a little. Either that or social suicide is committed. I was in a situation some years ago that required some Queen Bee etiquette. It wasn't as difficult as I thought it would be. I had a friend who was also a Queen Bee. When as a pair or with our female friends the dynamic worked very well. We both had very different personalities and specific areas of expertise so never clashed. We both had male friends that used to come in and out of our social lives and, depending on who knew the lads better, the other would temporarily relinquish her Queen Bee crown for the evening/weekend and become a lowly princess. A couple of new boys were introduced into a social group that Friend and I were part of. Interesting - fresh blood! At first we all hung out together. The Fresh Blood Boys fitted into our lives perfectly; their humour, outlook and personalities worked with ours. For a while it was really fun. Then it got competitive. Now, I'm not the kind of person that competes with my friends as I don't see the point. There are plenty of other people in the world that its necessary to grapple with through life so I don't go up against my friends (unless its Singstar), its a waste of energy. Not to mention the negativity it brings about. So please bear in mind that it wasn't me that engineered the popularity contest. It started when The Fresh Blood Boys invited me out for a pint but the invite wasn't extended to Friend. This allowed me to, most definitely, wear my shiny crown. Friend got a little narked that I'd been chosen as playmate that night (in a non Hugh Hefner way, I hasten to add!) so she started instigating outings with the boys that excluded me. The boys would invite me out regularly when she was, as well they knew, otherwise engaged. It became a rare occasion that the two Queen Bees and the Fresh Blood Boys were in the same room... until a party a couple of months later. To cut a long story short, Friend decided to display her sting and got off with one of the boys as she thought it would oust me from the throne once and for all. How wrong she was. Instead it had the opposite effect. The Fresh Blood Boys stopped talking to her. I won. Ner-ner-ner-ner-ner. I know this reaction is immature but let that be a lesson to you; do not put yourself up against me. Not because I'm a fierce competitor but because I will quite happily sit back, let you do all the work and allow you to make a fool of yourself, my worker bees protecting my reputation (I work hard on friendships), resulting in your social death. There, I've exposed the sting in my tail - Oops!
My winged kind emit pheromones when in the hive to let the worker bees know she's still around and everything still in place, making them feel safe. I can draw some similarities here too as I have a signature perfume that some boys go crazy for - so much so that it earned me a stalker (the second stalker of my life so far). He smelled me in passing one day. And then followed me around for a year. I didn't enjoy this experience. This was not me in full Queen Bee mode, I was terrified. Well, that's a bit strong as he was never a threat to my life but the constant unwanted attention was unnerving rather than flattering. Along the same vein, one of my ex-boyfriends reckons the first thing that attracted him to me was my smell. I don't find this very complimentary as, in those days, I had many positive attributes that I'd have put above my scent.
Last weekend saw me basking in my typical Queen Bee fashion, surrounded by worker bees. My boys. I was visited by two male friends from Bristol and one from South-West London. Calling them worker bees makes it sound like they're my minions, they're not. Not by any stretch of the imagination. The worker bees in hives are the ones that do the hard graft and keep it all ticking along perfectly. These boys are my support system. They allow me to be me, are accepting of my behaviour (whether good or bad) without judging and are exceptionally loyal. I have a tremendous amount of affection for my boys. I don't always know how to show them though.
Friday night was dedicated to an overdue catch up as us Londoners hadn't seen the West Country boys for some months. It was an almost civilised evening made slightly wonky by the amount of alcohol consumed. The boys were boys but soon listened to the only girl when they were instructed not to burp gratuitously or to pass wind, at all, indoors (they were in my palace!). That's what the balcony was to be used for, that and smoking. So the evening was spent relaxing, drinking and shooting the breeze. It was absolutely wonderful. And it was also great to look on and watch the boys totally at ease in my hive. They were relaxed enough to spread out, put their feet on the furniture and treat the place like home. The only disagreements of the evening happened when it came to music. You see, all three boys are very knowledgeable when it comes to this subject. I'd warned them to bring their iPods as I knew my playlists would not satisfy their aural appetites, though I was surprised when I'd text them earlier in the day, jokingly threatening to play Take That during the evening and one of the boys replied, "I love Take That. Except for The Circus, that's shit..." (I still have the message to use for blackmailing purposes at some point in the future, if necessary). This is where I can draw another comparison between the lives of honey bees and mine - the queen bee has a smaller brain than the worker bees. When it comes to the musical mind, mine is, without doubt, humble next to each one of theirs. The boys didn't argue over the quality of what was being played from each others' pods as they have similar music tastes but they battled over who would play the next song, it was pretty amusing to watch. It wasn't a contest of alpha male egos, goodness no, but rather an "I've discovered the next big thing" type affair. It only endeared them to me even more, if that was possible. Then I fed them cakes I'd baked, made sure they had water next to their beds, clean sheets and towels before verbally tucking them all in and singing them lullabies. (Ok, the last bit's a fib.)
Halfway through the evening, one of the boys remembered he had to take a photo for his 365 project so we all worked our way into the shot. I'm so thrilled a moment from the evening was captured. I want this picture framed. Its beautiful. I'll love it forever. We look like we fit together like the pieces of a jigsaw.
The next evening we were invited to a female friend's birthday in a super trendy London club. I happily allowed her to wear the crown that night (well, it was her party) as I wasn't feeling my best (no, not hangover) and as he sensed this, one of the boys didn't leave my side all night. And another kept me in soft drinks for the whole evening and stroked by ego by using lines such as, "Present company included, all the girls in here are really pretty.". See, I told you, loyal 'til the end. The journey home saw us in hysterics as a wannabe male model fell asleep on the night bus and then, when the bus hit a curb, flew out of his seat and landed face down in the aisle, unable to get up and regain composure without the help of a stranger. This was karma at it's finest as he'd been mean to a homeless lady on the bus around twenty minutes before. And he was wearing black jeans and a blue denim shirt. And this shirt had pockets on both breasts. And it fastened with poppers which he'd undone down to his tummy-button. He deserved his fall from grace. We were right to laugh. A lot.
My true Queen Bee behaviour is only on full display when in the company of males. (Please don't confuse it with the actions of a Cougar, the intention is not to get jiggy with them. And they're older than me.) My boys are honest in a different way to my female friends. There's no over-analysing situations or dissecting what "he" may have said on the last date. They tell it how it is. They physically look after me (again, not sexually) as well as emotionally.
Just like a queen bee, my world would not function as it should without these boys. I can't, and don't want to, imagine my life without them in it. I'm as loyal to them as they are to me and I know they'd follow me if I decided to lead a swarm. I just hope they never hug me so tight that it turns into cuddle death! x
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