The Princess Generation

I am a product of the princess generation. Sure, almost every girl is daddy's little princess and mommy's little angel, but the princess generation is far more deeply rooted than that. I grew up in in an era where the fairy tales with happy endings came to life on the big screen. During my childhood the spotlight was on a mermaid who fell in love with a human and a small town girl who fell for a beast and it actually worked out for them. My first experience with romance was when a digitally remastered prince charming returned a glass slipper to Cinderella and she was Cinderella no more. I thought love, at least the romantic kind, would be about magic carpet rides and paddle boats with water lilies and singing crabs. They may have had to fight off an evil octopus or a witch in the process, but it was bound to end happily. Damsels in distress played on repeat in my VCR. Sadly the princesses who stood on their own two feet, like Mulan, were released after my illusions, or maybe they were delusions, were already set in stone. I sometimes wonder how things would have turned out for me, if a few more independent cartoon ladies had hit the big screen during my childhood.

Unfortunately, my parents only fueled my fairy-tale-love syndrome. Just like in my favorite animated princesses and their Mr. Charmings,they held hands in the mall and cuddled on the couch. Well into their 25th year of marriage they were vacationing together, sleeping together and happy as can be. The princess stories must have taken quite the psychological toll on me, because I believed that my parents were perfect. Maybe they had made mistakes in their lives, but those days were long gone. It was not until I was an adult that I realized it was just not possible that they escaped the perils of human relationships. I pieced the unspoken parts of my parents' lives together during my first year of college. They had been married for five years prior to my birth and they had been together for three or four years before that. By the time I was old enough to be aware of what was going on, their fighting days were over. They fell into their roles and learned to merrily live with each other. It likely took more work than sleeping beauty's relationship, but they got their happily ever after.

Having been raised on Disney and the Southern Baptist religion (which considering, the church's stance on homosexuality,seemed contradictory, but what did I know?) my reality was severely distorted. I believed in talking snakes, Jonah's survival in the belly of a whale, and humans turning into pillars of salt. I was taught to believe in a Jewish zombie who was both his own father and his own son and my friends and family encouraged these beliefs. With that said, an underwater band led by a crab and a beast who makes a metamorphosis into a perfectly suitable husband seemed perfectly plausible. As a child, I was unequipped to differentiate one tall tale from another. My reasoning was that if God really answers prayers, then Genie must have really granted Aladdin's wishes. Little did I know how detrimental to my future relationships these small pleasures would be.

I had teenage relationships that involved neither love or war. I had fun while it lasted and either I stopped calling or he did; either way when it was over everyone was fine, because even when the relationships began we knew we weren't destined for greatness. As I evolved from teenage rebel into a studious and responsible career woman, my idea of prince charming also evolved. Charming needed to be educated, preferably in hard sciences, he needed to be responsible and sympathetic. I wanted Friday nights on the couch with gourmet cheeses and a well paired wine. He could not want children, because it did not, and still does not, fit into my life plan. He needed a master's and a PhD so that I could go back and get mine without the stress of deciding whose education would take precedence.

My prince came riding up in a nineteen ninety something green Honda accord on some idle Thursday afternoon. He had a grin that warned me he was up to no good, but at 19 no good seemed like fun to me. He drew me in with his intellect and serenaded me with his guitar. He held me captive, though not against my accord, on an air mattress in his dark and dusty lair where the small of pot hung in the air. He inducted me into a world of erudite television and movies. I expressed to him my suspicions that the princesses and the Bible had lied to be and he was there to assuage and encourage me. At the time I failed to notice that his PhD was not hanging on the wall and that his living situation rather denoted a lack of responsibility.

Imagine my surprise when my fairy godmother failed to show up and I was stuck with a beast who just wouldn't make his transformation. My first serious relationship forced me to realized I had to bid farewell to my Cinderella complex. He came with his own complexities. He was child of the video game revolution and a free spirit who figured he would live and learn without regard for the mistakes of others; we were destined to be the epitome of "opposites attract." Sharp and stinging words filled the air and glass hit the floor as I attempted to train him into his role as prince charming. Your friends, your mom and your therapist always tell you that people don't change and you can't stay with a boy hoping that he will someday be a man. My subconscious must have been playing the stories of the changes from beast to prince and street rat to sultan on repeat, because I was deaf to their admonitions. The crying seemed like a typical princess thing to do, but the screaming, cursing and throwing of inanimate objects against walls led me to believe that I was not in the city of enchantment anymore.

I now know that plants can't survive without sunlight which dismantles the story of creation and magic carpets defy the law of gravity, but I have yet to give up on Prince Charming's training. Why get rid of the irresponsible, uneducated, musical and intellectual enchanter, when I can just teach him responsibility and get him educated? A musician who doesn't want children and understands photosynthesis seems like a steal in this world of imbeciles who can't differentiate their from there and to from too. I'll take the lot.

I still wonder if the relationship lowered my standards and shattered my dreams of happily-ever-after. Maybe I could have held out for my knight in shining armor. I don't let these thoughts linger. My realist point of view is that my current relationship welcomed me as best it could to reality. Progress from irresponsibility to responsibility has been made and an educated man he is. More often than I would like, we still wage wars and most of the time we both lose. Maybe this is my evil octopus and I still have a chance at a happy ending.