Between a Prince and a Frog, There's a Human Being

Simply Solo is a blog that often inspires me, especially now that I'm single, and it did yet again with its recent spotlight post, "I've Kissed A Lot of Frogs," by Josephine Angelini. 

It got me thinking about "frogs" and "princes" and expectations and disappointments. I've put men on pedestals before- heck, after my first date with my ex I wrote in my journal, "I've met my prince," (no joke!) and then, when he turned out to be a human being, I actually got angry and resentful. I have also labeled men as "frogs," though I hate to admit it. For all the crap I've given men who compartmentalize women (it's my most viewed post, in fact), I am guilty of having met men and deemed them, "not the marrying kind," sometimes before even really getting to know them.

When I was 12, I wrote a description of the man I'd like to marry. It went something like, "Tall, with blue eyes, likes to dance, gives me flowers, very very nice, has a good name, and is kind to kids and animals." That's all I wanted then, and it was mostly derived from movies. After each relationship I had, though, I'd add something to the list; smart, faithful, straight, hard-working, attentive, wants a commitment, outgoing, talented, in love with me, passionate, happy. As it goes with life, we learn what we want every time we don't get it, and we take for granted what we do have until we have to live without it.

I've been grateful after each experience- after each loss- for learning more about what I'm looking for. But I'm also able to recognize, now, that it's a tall order. Even if a guy seems to be all of these things, there are no princes. He will be a human being. He will have flaws. Even actual princes are human beings with flaws. What bothered me most about the royal wedding fuss was the notion that people glorified it because it sustains these very myths: that there are princes and princesses and perfect marriages and happily ever afters. We all know that Prince William farts, that Lady Kate has bad breath in the morning, and that there are no guarantees they'll live happily ever after. So it strikes me as a very strange occurrence that we're all pretending they're like the fairy tale characters we were fed as children when, on some level, we all know they are not. 

When I first truly discovered just how much of a lie fairy tales were, I started saying I'd never get married. I started saying I hated weddings and that I had no desire to be "somebody's wife" one day. It just wasn't possible to believe in it all anymore, because I realized the impossibility of promising someone that you'll love them for the rest of your life. I understood that dressing a man and a woman up in fancy attire and putting them through some sort of ritual that said "till death do us part" did not transform them into princes and princesses, nor did it provide them with a permanent pass to Happily Ever After. There's no such thing. No matter how pretty and white and big a wedding gown, the woman wearing it is still a human being, flawed and capable of anything. No matter how beautiful the vows that are exchanged, those two people still have no control over their hearts, and they have no idea if they really will love each other forever.

Just as I have accepted that there are no princes or frogs, though, I have also become less cynical. I no longer say I'll never get married, or that I hate weddings, or that I don't want to be somebody's wife one day. It has actually been quite a struggle for me to be honest with myself about all of these things. I wish to be neither too cynical nor too naive. I have come to the conclusion that I want to fall madly in love, I want to be loved in return, and I want to be so in love that for a while, I do believe I'll love this person forever. I want to say to someone, "I love you so much right now that I want to love you forever. I don't know if I will, I can't possibly know that, but I want to. That's the promise I am giving you. That I want to love you forever."

Whether I'll walk down an aisle one day in a big white dress and exchange nicely written vows with this person, I do not know. (Some things I absolutely know: I will not be changing my name to his, nor will there be any mention of "to obey" in my vows, but that's to be expected of a feminist, isn't it?) I suppose that when I find the right person (not Mr. Right, mind you, which is a modernized term for Prince Charming, but rather the Right Person For ME, at that given time), these things will become clearer. Or maybe they won't, and I'll just do what's conventional because it's easier and because I'm not as unconventional as I tend to think I am.

I'm more comfortable in this place of not knowing what I'll want. It seems more truthful than romanticizing my wedding day or bashing marriage. It is a relief to know that there is no "one person who will complete me," for every person I have loved has added to the woman I will be when I meet a man I want to love forever. And what's most refreshing, is knowing I'll appreciate that when it does happen, it will be with someone I accept and love as a human being, not a prince.



image from here.

A Romantic Finds Peace in Realism

I was a dangerously romantic child and teenager. I bought the whole "prince charming would sweep me off my feet one day and we'd live happily ever after" thing for a long time. All I wanted to do with my Barbies was make them marry the Ken's. I wrote love poems, I slept in long flowy nightgowns, I watched Dirty Dancing and Titanic until I knew them by heart, I liked to sit and stare at the rain, I never saw a flower I didn't like, I listened to James Taylor's songs obsessively, and, for a long time, I signed my name with a heart at the end of it. That's just who I was. Someone who wanted to love and who believed it could be pink and perfect when it happened.

Naturally, life happened, love visited me several times, and I eventually learned that those idealistic fantasies would never really come true and that being romantic set me up for great, painful falls. I was in college when I stopped writing poems, switched from long night gowns to pj's, stopped noticing the rain and the flowers, and found a new signature. "Men only want one thing from you," was drilled into me and I accepted reality: happily ever after was a load of shit.

I did what most young romantics do when they figure that out: had sex until I was immune to it, developed sarcasm, started drinking, and mastered the art (or should I say the tragedy?) of not letting my face give away how I actually felt. These "tools" served me well, and I survived the loss of my romantic self without making too much of a fuss over it.

Then, one day, as you may expect, I fell madly blindly in love with someone who was madly blindly in love with me too. And all the romantic dreams I had buried deep inside came rushing out, eager to participate in this love story. Poems and letters were written. There were sweep-me-off-my-feet hugs and passionate kisses in the rain. There were flowers and chocolates and three-hour-long phone conversations where we would just "hear each other breathe." It was quite beautiful at the time. I remember thinking, "This is what I've been waiting for. Someone to come along who could meet my romanticism and let me express myself completely." We were obsessively happy and life seemed to fall perfectly into place.

But.

It ended. The flame was too strong, too powerful, too fast, too hot, and it burnt out so quickly we were both left groundless- wondering where it went and why we couldn't get it back. I mourned the loss of the man I had loved, but I also mourned the loss of that romantic girl again, whom I thought had come back for good. She seemed to look at me accusingly, you didn't protect me. You let me out when it wasn't safe. I was heart-broken and desperately sad.

Some time passed, however, and once I had let go of him and who I was with him, I saw that I actually didn't want that. It was a fantasy, and we worshipped each other, which sounds nice, but I don't want a fantasy, nor do I want to be worshipped. A love that blinds me and puts me on a pedestal is actually not the kind of love I want, after all. I much rather have the kind of love I have to work for and earn, with someone whose flaws are very apparent to me, and with whom I feel at ease being just human.

I don't want a Prince. I'm not a Princess. I'm a woman. I'm a human being. I don't floss my teeth every day. I have scars. I eat too much chocolate. I'm a terrible singer who no one wants to take to karaoke. I can never throw anything away. I own shoes that cost enough to feed a starving colony. I like country music. I procrastinate. I sleep with a stuffed peter rabbit. And I have enough ex-boyfriends who could add to this list until it turned into a Russian novel.

You get the idea.

After finding the fairy-tale love story and then letting it go, I saw that it wasn't what I wanted. I want to be madly in love, yes, but with consciousness and choice. Believe it or not, I don't want to erase into someone else's being, become one, connect in a way that is inseparable. I rather create a story that has space for two individuals, who are together because they choose to be, not because they can't live without each other. Something about that is so much more valuable and healthy than indulging in the "star-crossed lovers" myth. Romeo and Juliet didn't exactly end with Happily Ever After either, lest we forget. My romantic self is still part of me, it really can't just be buried away, but it's learned to find peace with realism. I can love deeply, but I want to see who I'm loving for who they are, and be seen for who I am.

We all have a goddess within us. It makes sense to worship her. It's easy to love her.

I want to be loved for my humanity.

I want to find love, with sanity and sight.

I want romance, with realism.

Fairy Tale Lessons

I wrote this poem years ago and have edited it recently. Reading my cousin's blog today inspired me to post it.

Fairy Tale Lessons

there's only one woman who can be the fairest of them all. silly queen; she was already old.

fairy godmothers sometimes forget to tell you to leave something behind for the fella. so when in doubt, leave something that could only fit you. like a shoe.

if you never leave your tower, the love of your life will still find you.

dragons are easy to kill.

if you're kinda chubby you can be a fairy.

mothers are not necessary. in fact, it's best if they die at child-birth.

careers are also not necessary. in fact, it's best not to mention them.

when you're passive and unconscious you look really attractive.

hairy, violent, large men should be tolerated and appreciated. listen to your furniture.

homosexuality does not exist.

the less you talk, the more action you get.

love happens only once and it is instantaneous.

the circle of life means females have babies. it's painful, but hey, hakuna matata.

to be a princess you must be shorter than the prince.

old people don't fall in love.

"do you trust me" is always a trick question.

conclusion:

poor humble gorgeous girls get rich handsome princes to rescue them.

the reason they're so skinny is so the prince can carry them and look strong.

if you're one of those girls, don't try having girlfriends. they get jealous. and jealous women are vicious.