Posts
WARNING:
The
following story has been severely embellished and significantly altered (where necessary) for the sake of
entertainment and dramatic effect. Much like a Hollywood
movie is loosely based on actual events, the following is loosely based on the irritatingly repetitive nature and eternally lethal ending of romantic relationships in the last 8 years of my life. This particular story is a
conglomeration of the experiences of all those years, the men that came with them and A LOT of
fantasy all balled up into one (hopefully) very funny and entertaining
story. The only actual name I’ve used is my own, for obvious reasons. Any others "characters" are a unique combination of the male flaws & fantasticness I've been exposed to in the last decade. I drew from experiences with people I know, people I like, people I'm not too terribly fond of & some that I just plain can't stand the sight or thought of anymore. The end result is my own special blend of completely perfect or completely imperfect cast of male characters that allow me to capture the full effect of whatever emotion or message I may
be trying to convey at that point of the story.
I’ve been working on this
particular blog for a very long time; so any apparent or implied or supposed connection to
a recent, specific and incredibly painful event in my life is purely coincidental and just goes to prove that,
for whatever reason, I’m a magnet for the ridiculously comedic and excruciatingly painful when it comes to romance. Did I include parts and pieces of said horrible event? Absolutely! But take caution: because you weren't actually there, you have no right to theorize or make accusatory statements of which parts and pieces of what you are about to read actually relate to that incredibly painful few days of my life. I,
personally, am happy with the end result of what I believe to be a funny,
witty, entertaining story that many women will hopefully be able to relate
to. Please do not read anything into my words aside from me needing to
vent about the overwhelming and excessive decay of basic morality in our
oh-so-very contemporary society and the ails of being a single woman looking
for real and honest love in the present century. If you were me and had
been through the things I’ve been through, you’d need to vent too and I appreciate your letting me share some of me with you.
P.S.
If you want to talk movie rights for a screenplay… I’m all ears!
:o)
And
now… the Feature Presentation… 10... fade lights... 8... 7… cue chirping birds & whimsy music… 5… 4…
fade in fairytale cottage… 2… and cue narration…
Someday,
I hope to be socially adept enough to avoid the causes of such reminders which
seem to be popping up more and more frequently as the years go on. Until
that time, I’m doomed to live the life of a 30-something single white female,
lady in waiting, who is constantly second guessing herself, her worth and her
motives, as well as that of all prospective males in the kingdom. I seem
to be mercilessly drawn by some unavoidable super-magnetic force of which I
have no control over, to life situations which eerily resemble the painfully awkward
and incredibly pathetic scenes from really bad romantic comedies. Just
for the record: I’m not a fan and I don’t want to play anymore. I’ve been
dumped on A LOT. I’m not suggesting that I’m perfect and that all of the
problems in all of my relationships are the fault of the Current Jerk, but I’m
not a doormat for crying out loud! I just want to hurry up and start my
“life” being happy with someone who loves me and cares about me and wants to be
with me for the rest of their lives because they know I’m still learning how to
be me and I’ll get better at it as I go along… Is that so much go ask?
Try
as I might, the story is generally always the same: I try to loosen up
and have a good time, just being myself and not worrying about men or marriage
or dating or even having a desire to be attached to anyone at all in any way,
shape or form and I end up sitting on the cake. Or accidentally tripping
the waiter and we both end up covered in soup and salad as the rest of the
restaurant (including whomever I may have been trying to impress with my
super-modelesque cat-walk style entrance) watches, doubled over in laughter.
Or my personal favorite, heading to the ladies room to take care of
business and inadvertently walking in on the best man (my date) lip-locked with
the bride’s 17 year old sister. “Oh! Hi! Um… Awkward… I was just… because, I
drank a lot of punch… and… I wasn’t expecting… you know what? I’m gonna go
now.” Really? Again? I thought this wasn’t going to be a
problem anymore… Is this kind of torture absolutely necessary? I mean
REALLY? He was cute and I really liked him and he played the part of the
noble, chivalrous, gallant, honorable, handsome Prince Charming SO
well... Did he really have to turn out to be the cowardly, jealous,
self-absorbed, deceitful Knave making his way from chamber to chamber robbing
the handmaids of their virtue? This is LAME!!! This is SO not what
I signed up for and I want my money back! Why are they all Knaves!
So
after numerous shattered and broken hearts, I give up… I’m done keeping brooms
within arms length to sweep the pieces of my heart into a bowl and trying to
glue them back together. Clearly Princes and palaces are not for me and I
resign myself to being content as the crazy old cat lady who lives in the
rundown cottage at the end of the lane, makes the best homemade cookies in the
world and doles out relationship advice to all of the much younger and more
beautiful townsfolk like a gleefully retired love-pharmacist. I’m like
the grandmother they never had… or the mother they always wanted… Problem
is that I’m not old enough to be the crazy old cat lady. I bought the
cookies at the store last week and just microwaved them to make them warm and
yummy. And the only reason I give advice to anyone about anything even remotely
resembling a relationship is so I can live vicariously through their blissful
ignorance at the pain and angst of any type of romantic involvement with the
opposite sex in order to keep hope alive for myself that fairytales are real,
love is alive & well and dreams really do come true. Oh who am I
kidding… that stuff only happens in books and movies. Lies all LIES!!!
And
then; a glimmer of unexpected light at the end of the tunnel. This story
appears to have the potential to be significantly different… A man I’ve seen
many times before, but never truly noticed. He’s tall and handsome.
His face is tender and generous yet filled with strength and honor. His
eyes are determined and hopeful and full of love. His arms are strong and
protective, full of comfort. And then he smiles at me as he gallops past
my little cottage on his beautiful stallion… me! There was no one else around
that he possibly could have been smiling at… Try as I might to remain calm and
collected, I couldn’t help but become completely hysterically giddy and wonder
if I remembered to put on deodorant that morning… He IS wonderful! Wait--Shut up! Is that a kilt?!?! How could I have not noticed him sooner? I’m hurrying to the gate,
kicking the cats out of the way as I run… I start asking the neighbors… “Is
this guy for real? No double life? No girls in the closet? No lying, no
cheating, no hidden motives, no deceit? For real? A really real MAN
with morals and values? Get outta town!! I thought they were
extinct! Does he know my name? Cuz… um… If he doesn’t... you could
tell him and I wouldn’t be mad about it. P.S. Don’t forget to mention that I’m
VERY available and I just happen to be completely amazing…” Oh crap! I gotta get rid of
all these cats!
I
decide to take a chance. I can put myself out there. I’m strong enough to
do that much… Just to see if the smile was a courtesy for the sake of
politeness or if he’s really interested.
So,
with a little help from my Fairy Godmother, I slip on a beautiful gown that
hugs me in all the right places & those fantastic glass slippers I bought
last year (then never had a reason to wear) and come out of my cottage… shy but
willing to try. If he’s the real thing, then it just might be worth it to
try to get his attention. He glances my direction and I see him do a
double take. I can see him size me up. He appears to like what he
sees but he doesn’t want to appear too obvious. He eventually makes his
way to me after stopping to talk to EVERY neighbor along the way… meanwhile I’m
trying to look like I’m not an atomic bomb of nerves ready to explode at any
second. Introductions, he kisses my hand—every bit the perfect
gentleman. We talk. We walk. We laugh. We flirt.
I trip over my own foot and loose my balance trying to be graceful as we wander
through the garden and he catches me—the comfort of his arms and the protection
they give me is beyond amazing—please don’t ever let go. Can’t we just
stay like this forever? Happily ever after begins now; ready, GO!
He
helps me back to my feet and puts his arm around me to make sure I’m alright.
He gives me a reassuring squeeze just to make sure I know he is
concerned. There I am, in his arms and it’s a completely flawless fit;
when he hugs me, my head rests perfectly in that little pillow of pectoral
manliness between his collar bone and the ball of his shoulder. I steady myself
and try to recover from the now lightheaded feeling I have because my heart is
skipping every other beat and the room is spinning and I’ve got fireworks and
birds and stars and a dozen other things buzzing around my head… I think I’ve
got my feet back under me, but then I start to sway. I’m feeling
faint—this can’t be happening to me! It’s all so completely perfect—so
why are my legs suddenly toothpicks that won’t support my weight? And why
are my joints apparently made of some sort of gelatin substance that won’t hold
the toothpicks together the way they should? Without thinking and without
any real effort, his arm immediately responds to my involuntary movement and he
pulls me back to his chest and holds me there. I just fit perfectly right
there. Can this BE any more perfect? I submit that it CANNOT!
He
smells like paradise; if nothing but the incredibly sexy and completely intoxicating amazingness of his cologne ever again entered my
nostrils, I wouldn’t complain. I try not to swoon… I try to maintain some
kind of composure. I can’t let him know that on the inside I’ve already
planned out the wedding and I’ve moved on to decorating the palace he will
build for me and naming our children; by the way, there will be 4--children. That would scare him & and he
would run away screaming for help… No, can’t have that… he can’t know… I have
to be subtle… So I proceed—with CAUTION trying VERY hard to be nonchalant about
the whole thing and simply thank him for helping me back up with an embarrassed
smile. I truly can’t stand the thought of getting hurt again. My
Knave wounds have been healing for a while. Surely there’s plenty of scar
tissue to keep me from sustaining the same injuries again (for what will seem
like the hundredth time) and I think I’m ready to find out how thick my skin
has become. Think positive: he’s a Prince, he’s a Prince, he’s a really
REAL Prince… and I’m the Damsel in Distress he’s been searching for.
Several
weeks go by… there have been walks in the garden; always with my arm in his…
tea in the parlor happens nearly every day now… dinner in town several times… he
always brings the most beautiful flowers and kisses my hand when he greets me…
such a gentleman… so perfect…
Tonight
we’ve had the most beautiful candlelit dinner in the next village over… a place
he’s been raving about for days… it’s one of his favorite places. Dinner
was beautiful. We’re waiting for dessert to arrive and I excuse myself to
the ladies room to powder my nose… I get all the way there and realize I’ve
left my handbag and the powder in my chair. I walk back to the table,
slightly flustered because I don’t want to look like an idiot who can’t
organize her thoughts properly when he’s around. As I walk back through
the door to the dining area, I see my purse—there on the table just where I
left it… And then I see my Prince and I freeze. I had no idea a face
could do that… His face is apparently welded to her face because they don’t
appear to be breathing and neither of them looked up when I walked in.
Begin internal monologue:
[GGGGGAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! FAIL!
WHAT are they DOING!!! I was gone less than 90 seconds and he’s already doing
the waitress?? He hasn’t even kissed me like that yet and we’ve been
exclusive for more than 2 months! KNAVE! YOU HORRIBLE KNAVE!!! I hate
men… I hate them ALL… Why did I ever think I could trust a man? Not
again… not AGAIN! Why did I think he was any different than any other man
on the planet!? OH EM JHEE! Horrible vile and deceitful creatures ALL of
THEM! They deserve to have their crotches infested with the fleas of a thousand
camels and to be cursed with arms too short to scratch… die yucky man!
DIE!!! My life is over… I knew better than to try… Liz + Boy = EPIC FAIL…
it’s an infallible basic equation that has been tested time and time again;
always with the same result… what was I thinking… what have I done?? I allowed
my self to be vulnerable… I’ll never recover… what the crap! Why is this
happening? What was HE thinking?! WHAT was I THINKING?! I
don’t want THIS! I’ve done this BEFORE! I want to die… I want to
cry… why do these things always happen to me? I have to leave. I have to
go. Now!]
I
leave my purse on the table beside him. I don’t need it bad enough to
interrupt whatever is going on. I’m so embarrassed! How could I have been
so stupid!
I
threaten the valet with his life and he brings me the pumpkin carriage, because
he doesn’t want to die. I’m racing toward home and I want to throw
up. I’m physically ill… It happened again… Prince Charming is Knave
reincarnated… they’re all the same… it’s never going to change… my luck will
NEVER change… why am I always drawn to the ultra-mondo-jerk-faced men?
Wait a minute… This isn’t Prince Charming’s fault… I misunderstood what I
saw… I reacted the way that I did because I’m still distraught over the Knaves
before him and what they did… The waitress was a witch… There was a spell… She
tried to poison me! That’s why I had to pee so suddenly! That had
to be it… Prince Charming would never do this! Prince Charming… NO!
KNAVE… the way he attacked that poor girl and took advantage of her… Oh! I
can’t control the pain… shards of my shattered heart tumbling out the carriage
window, my tears washing them away as they hit the ground… Prince Charming?
Knave? I can’t tell the difference anymore… the pain takes over and all I can
see is red… and I start sobbing… it’s hopeless… I will forever be the little
old cat lady.
[This
is where any and all resemblance to reality as I know it stops. I’ve
never been past this point… I’m still waiting for this next part to actually
happen in any form… Oh! Hollywood
But
wait! After I rush out in my fit of rage, he pushes her away… The kiss lasted
less than 3 seconds… It was an old girlfriend who had been in the pub next door
and was totally hammered… she missed him and realized how wrong she’d been when
they fought and broke up 5 years ago… she had been waiting for me to leave so
she could pounce on him! He thinks “You?! I love Liz and I end up kissing
YOU??!! What’s WRONG with me?!! What’s wrong with YOU!!! Why would think you
could kiss me and everything would be better?! How could I be so
STUPID! I should have seen you coming!!” He completely screwed up…
and he KNOWS it… He DID see me standing there in the doorway in the split
second before I ran out… He rushes out after me but it’s too late… I’m already
gone and I took the carriage… the valet is still concerned for his safety and
so, doesn’t offer any help to my Prince. But it’s too late… I’ve already crucified
him in my mind… he has to find me… he has to try… How will he explain to
me what happened? How will he make me believe him?! He must find a
way!
Everyday
he rides past my cottage… Everyday he begs me to come out but I refuse. I
don’t leave the house for several months… I let the house and my heart grow
dark and cold. I am so full of hate and bitterness that soon, I don’t
recognize myself. My heart is cold and I’ve become a reclusive haggard
and gaunt looking old woman, no longer the beautiful girl he fell in love with.
He knocks on the door one day to inquire about his beautiful Cinderella…
I tell him she’s gone, never to return but everyday he rides by and everyday I
stare him down; the kiss replaying in my mind over and over. The venomous
memory of the kiss poisoning my heart day after day until I can love no more… I
cry out in the dark from the nightmares… why me!? Never again… I’ll never
trust any man ever again. The days and weeks go by… his daily ride past
my cottage never failing. I’m so blinded by my own pain from what was a
complete misunderstanding, that I can’t allow myself to even imagine that he
ever really cared for me. Any such thought would only make me vulnerable
to his lies and deceit. I can’t let that happen again. I
won’t. He doesn’t care about me. He never did. It was all
just a show, and when he didn’t get what he wanted from me he turned to the
first floozy he saw and got it from her. He must be punished and I’m the
only one who seems to know how evil he is. He has the rest of the world
fooled… but not me. I know better. I saw who he truly is with my
own eyes. Nothing can change that… nothing. They’re all the same…
all of them. Little old cat lady… that’s who I’ll always be. It’s
safer for what’s left of my heart.
One
day he stops and slowly walks to my door. He gently knocks and asks to
sit with me in the garden. Against my better judgment, I agree. He
asks again if I know the girl who used to live here, and again I tell him
no. He persists and looks at me very thoughtfully, as if he understands
my pain. As if he can see deep into my tortured soul. And somehow
he knows. He knows that I’ve been there all along. He knows that he
should have spoken to me sooner. He knows it too late, but he has to
try. I ask him why he is so persistent and why he keeps asking for
someone he knows is gone. “Why won’t you let her go, this girl you keep
asking for?” As he takes my hand in his, I see just how withered and
gnarled with hatred I have become. He speaks a soft and simple reply with
such honesty and sincerity I don’t know how to respond. “I love
her.” I have no idea what I was expecting him to say, but THAT wasn’t
it. I’m stunned. I look up in complete disbelief and I’m suddenly
horror struck. And then, just as quickly as I felt the compassion it
turns to skepticism. Oh, he’s GOOD… he’s REALLY good… all this time and
he still knows exactly what to say to make me THINK he’s Mr. Wonderful.
“Since the day I first took her hand and we walked through this garden, I’ve
loved her with all my heart. I hurt her terribly, and for that I’ll never
forgive myself. And so I must seek until she is found. My heart
belongs to her and she holds it with her still.” My whole heart melts… His
face changes; it softens… Suddenly he can see through the wrinkles of pain and
the scars of hate… And I can see him for who he truly is… He IS Prince
Charming… I hated him for what others had done… He leans in… he kisses me
ever so gently… and I’m transformed into my beautiful young self…
And
we live happily ever after… :o)
