Fuck Prince Charming

Occasionally I will be posting goodies from my old blog, such as this popular one which still very much applies today.

With each new guy I dated, I was always waiting for that magical first kiss, the one that (I’m told) sends tingles down your body and makes you lose yourself in that precious moment.

I have never experienced a first kiss like that, or any kiss. I am told it happens, and not just in the latest clearance-sale chick flick. Or maybe I’ve never felt that happy feeling because I’ve never been in love. I thought I had been with my last boyfriend, but maybe not.

Orgasms and being in love follow the same line of questioning: “Have you ever been in love?” “I’m not sure.. I think I have.. once…” “Then you haven’t been. You’d know for sure if you had.”

Well, shit.

So maybe I’ve never had that magical toe-curling kiss because I’ve never been in love. Or maybe it simply doesn’t exist. Is it one of those urban relationship myths? A modern day fairy tale with a Jennifer Aniston movie character living happily ever after? Because most of those go straight to DVD.

Not that any of that will keep me from going to frog to frog, hoping this one will be the one who makes me weak in the knees with his slurpy fly-flavored kiss. I may be a cynic, but I’m not a hopeless cynic.

I gave up on the whole idea of Prince Charming years ago, well before I hit puberty. I was quite the precocious cynic. Although it may seem like it sucks that I have little hope in happily ever after, I think it leaves me far better off. How many women have you ever met who describe their Prince Charming as tall, dark, handsome, super super smart, has a PhD, travels all over the world, reads Gourmet magazine, speaks five languages (three fluently), has a trust fund but makes six figures a year “for fun”, volunteers for Habitat for Humanity, and can cook a mean lasagne (from scratch of course).

Yeeeeeah. I tell ya what. While you’re looking for Prince-Fucking-Charming, I’m going to be over here kissing frogs. It’s not like I expect “our blossoming love” to magically transform my frog from an idiot into the perfect guy. Life doesn’t work like that. I’ve finally learned that no matter what you do, you can’t kiss a boy into a man. He has to do that on his own while he’s out in the wild eating bugs and wondering why he’s alone.

I am also (finally) not naive enough to think that some wonderful prince will kiss me and turn me into the strong independent woman I knew was down in there somewhere. Girls come in ugly frog form too.

Say all the wonderful things you want about love, it’s not magic. It takes more than love and a helluva lot more than a kiss to transform someone.

The next time I’m ready to look around the pond, all I want is a cute little boy frog who will look me in my big bug eyes and tell me “you’re the greatest girl frog I’ve ever met.” And then we’ll smooch and I’ll eat flies off his plate and he won’t mind because he knows me well enough to order extra.