I’m still trying to remember the time when I finally realized that my Disney princess ideas of relationships and marriage were never true.
It was probably during middle school when I fell in love with my first boyfriend for one whole week or probably somewhere between the two page love letter that I wrote him right before he moved away without saying a word.
I learned some really hard lessons back then. One being, never kiss a guy after P.E. Now, I know the phrase physical education may seem to have some sexual innuendo, but it mostly meant a hot mess. I mean, there I was with my best Cinderella before 11:59 p.m. impression.
And although we had to wear that tacky blue gym outfit every other day, today, I was fairy-godmother-ready with my high ponytail, my sparkling white Nikes, and my lip gloss-game so right that even Lil Mama would be jealous.
My prince, on the other hand, or maybe I should say my frog, was trying to prove that he would be the next Michael Vick (pre-canine era). The guy took this class way too seriously and by the end of the period, he was sweatier than a fat kid fighting for the last piece of cake.
Of course, I didn’t realize it until he was only 3 dripping feet away from me. Still, we had made a deal and I guess I had to commit to it. So, there we were trying to hide from our shortsighted teachers for a kiss that would only last 3.2 seconds and leave me feeling more like a pumpkin. I still remember the eager yet terrified look in his eyes when it happened.
Baby wipes, paper towels, tissue, Kleenex – by the time it was over I had already compiled a list of 30 things he could have used to rectify this sweaty situation. This was my moment. It was supposed to be the moment when I was finally the fairest of them all. Instead, all I could think about was how awful it was to have his sweaty palms hugging me. This was not how it was supposed to be. Cinderella, Aurora, Belle, and Ariel all had their happily-ever-afters but I just had the remnants of the moisture from his profuse perspiration.
I guess I said all of that just to say…now that I’m older and infinitely much wiser (and have regrettably kissed a few more frogs), I no longer believe in fairy tales. And, no, I don’t believe that all relationship have happy ends, but I do believe it’s possible. I think it takes years of practice and a lot of hard work but nothing worth having isn’t. I’m no relationship guru but it’s everything in between that seems to make the difference. That’s exactly what Disney got all wrong. And, since my childhood dream of being the next princess probably won’t come true any time soon, I think I should start working toward a plan b. Online dating anyone?