Forgetting Prince Charming
When I was little I was a huge fan of Disney films. That hasn’t changed; I still love Disney. My favourite film was Cinderella. It isn’t just a classic, it’s The classic. It has all the elements: downtrodden but still amazing girl, fairy godmother who miraculously makes everything wonderful, and a prince charming. Not to mention the whole kingdom, riches and dreams-coming-true element to it all. It’s the perfect film for a kid whose sole goal in life is to get married to an incredibly rich, but unfortunately dying, man. No, that’s a slight exaggeration, I don’t mind really if he’s got a few years left in him.
When I was a kid I could sit there and watch it repeatedly. I know it’s sad. It’s just what I did. And I had a recurring dream. I dreamt that I was Cinderella and I went to the ball. I didn’t have glass slippers, I had gorgeous black satin stillettos with real stars in them making them all sparkly. My dress wasn’t blue, but it may have been red or some other colour. Blue doesn’t really suit me the same way it suited Cinderella. I mean, she was blonde. I was Cinderella though, I was just a less blonde version. I was probably also pretty crap at the household chores thing.
Of course I got my prince Charming. He was perfect as dream guys are wont to be. Tall, dark, gorgeous, and raking it in. My ideal man, except better. And that’s pretty much what I’ve always wanted.
But right now I’m happy. I’m not talking love, and I’m not talking infatuation either. I think he’s great and I think that the imperfections are what make it better. I’m not normal; I’m a complete nightmare and act like a lunatic most of the time. And he isn’t for forever. He’s for now. No, he’s for a while. He is definitely not the perfect man. He never gives me compliments and we spend 99% of the time bickering over complete crap. The other one percent is spent coming up with random crap. It’s easy.
And I realised that what I do NOT want is that perfect man. He’s taught me that I don’t want the truly imperfect man either. I gave up on dreaming about prince charming and moved on to the wild child bad boy who would treat me badly and would have more problems than the guy standing on the street corner selling The Big Issue. He’s taught me that I really don’t have a clue what I want. You never really know what it is, or who it is, that will come along. I’m not going to go out and search for Mr Right because I know that eventually, someone will come along and they won’t be him. And that’ll work for me.
It’s amazing what the people who aren’t right can teach you while you’re looking for that person who is right, but will teach you nothing.
