I quite recently got in a light-hearted debate with my best friend, and we bantered back and forth on the availability of Prince Charming. She's a dyed-in-the-wool cynic. She is of the belief that when the zombie apocalypse rolls around she will be fighting on her own. I maintain that when that happens, I'll have a special someone who will protect me, and let me fight alongside him. He'll be the guy who get's a congratulatory kiss when we outwit our rotting counterparts. But I digress. I loved fairy tales as a kid, I imagined myself as Snow White, doing laundry for a group of well-meaning dwarfs and being awakened from a slumber of death by a kiss from a handsome prince. Or as Belle in Beauty and the Beast, winning the heart of the hurt and lonely Beast. I used to spend days on end dressing up, sometimes as Laura from the Little House on the Prairie books, other days as Rose from Titanic. In my mind's eye, they had the perfect lives, either they were making a place for themselves in the world, with a manly Almanzo by their side, or they were being swept off their feet by a handsome artist. A few years later, in an attempt to mimic my mother's cowgirl bravado I decided I didn't need a man, I failed to realize that my mom has my dad to help her out, but that didn't matter at the time. I spent three years wearing nothing but high-waisted jeans, cowboy boots, and button up shirts. I'd talk cattle with her for hours, and try to soak up her tough-girl mystique. Somewhere along the line I got bored. I eventually found myself, the real me, not someone I was trying to be to impress people. Let's face it, I love the color pink, I wear makeup, I'll get up two hours earlier than a sane person so I can shower, and do my hair and makeup. I pick outfits out a week before I need them. I pack my clothes and toiletries meticulously when I'm traveling. I like perfume, and lacy lingerie, and I have an unbridled affinity for handbags and wallets. I feel really sexy when there is black lace under my clothes, and I have mascara carefully applied. I love browsing through antique shops, and I will go shopping anytime, anywhere. I read romance novels, I unabashedly listen to sappy love songs, and I watch every chick flick I can get my hands on. And the thing about all of that is, that's who I am. And when Prince Charming finds me he will be masculine, and handsome, and exactly what I need. He will be the man I date, and dance with, and fall in love with. He's the man I will fall head over heels for, seduce, and eventually marry. I will have a family with him, and someday, long in the future, we will be old, and gray, and sitting on our front porch watching our grandkids cavort and carry on in our front yard.
My best friend has convinced herself that she will be alone. And I love her very very much, and I do try to be patient, but her cynicism is tiring. I want to throttle her, and scream at her that somewhere out there is the perfect man for her. He will do all the cooking, and will hold her close when they watch horror movies, he will woo her with the written word because that's the fastest, and purest way to her heart. I watch her now, she's 18, and I think with a surety that can only come from a long-fostered patience that the man for me will find me, that in time she will realize that if she gives up completely now, that the man for her is out there, wondering when his Cinderella will happen along, and he will be heartbroken beyond repair. Maybe the white-picket fence ideal is a little suburban for her. I'll grant her that, but that doesn't mean she shouldn't dream. Every girl, no matter what race, age, background or income level, should trust that she will someday be wooed by the man of her dreams. Every girl deserves to feel like the most perfect person in the world to someone. Every girl should have a day, that is entirely hers, she should wear a white dress and tiara that make her feel like the princess, to her mate's Prince Charming. And my hope is that she will realize she deserves happiness as much as everyone. That someday, down the road from here, when the perfect man finds her, that her heart will bloom under the attention, and care of his affection and love for her. I know, that when Prince Charming comes knocking at my door, I will be ready for him. And all that our happily ever after entails. And because I love my friend so dearly, I can only hope that she will still believe in happily ever after when her chance comes along. Maybe he will be her knight in shining armor, ready to rescue her from monotony, and treat her like the queen she is. Or perhaps he will be the King Simon to her Brave Margaret, from Irish lore, he will march into battle with the woman he loves. I don't know how her fairy tale will end, but I do know, that her Prince Charming is out there.
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