I've had a little trouble coming up with a post topic the last couple days. . . my internal dialogue went a little something like this:
Should I make it funny? Or serious. . . yea, yea let's go serious... Or maybe I should be risque and do something about sex. . . family is always a go to so that's an option. . . maybe about the atmosphere in which I work? No... then everyone who was still a student would try to get a job where I work. . . better not do that... shit, am I running out of things to write about?! This does not bode well for my future as a New York Times Bestselling author. . . fuck, fuck, fuck. . . what should I write about?????? Oh yea... that.
I have you all on the edges of your seats, right? Come onnn, admit it. . . you're dying right? Okay, WAIT! Don't die. . . I'm getting there. . . but you can't call me corny or a cliche. Deal? Deal.
Ahem. I believe in love. And not just love, but that "I'm a beautiful mess and you're exquisitely crazy and we are the cutest two people in the world, knew I was gonna marry you the moment I saw you, rocking chair on the front porch at 60, amazingly priceless proposal, you're my hero/I'm your hero/this is the best partnership in the world, amazing, amazing, fantastic sex with the guy I'm gonna live my life with, cannot wait to have my first last kiss with you" kinda love. I believe in fairy tales. I believe in prince charming. Now there's a topic! Am I right?
Prince Charming. Otherwise known as the guy who many men consider to be the biggest ass in the land because he's what they need to measure up to. Also known as what every girl spends time writing in her diary about and whom she attempts to turn every boyfriend she's ever had into. Here's what I've come to learn about Prince. . . you do not, under any circumstances, need to turn someone into him. . . he already is. Here's another thing I've come to learn about Prince. . . what I define as "prince charming" to be, changes. . . first yearly, then monthly, and sometimes daily, now.
What Prince Charming used to be: An actual, ya know, prince. This phase was, naturally, when I still thought I could jump through the television and swim under the sea with that red headed chick. But yea, he had a white horse that he lovingly referred to as his 'noble steed,' he had a delicious singing voice, and he had met every rich bitch in the land and still chose me. Of course then I would be a princess beloved by all the people in her kingdom and would probably have many bird friends to wake me in the morning and friendly mice to mend my clothing . . . and of course a best friend named Flounder.
What Prince Charming was a few years later: A deliciously sexy brunette who had abdominal muscles to die for, large hands, and treated me like a queen. This was junior high/high school fantasy land where what your date looked like mattered a little more than what he thought like. At this stage in my life, Prince Charming's sole purpose in life would be to take care of me, make sure I didn't want for anything, and always have a smile on his face when he saw me. I would forever be the love of his life and that would really be all he needed. (Writing this was painful. . . because I was fucking ridiculous.)
What Prince Charming is now, at 10:33 P.M. on Friday, Jan. 6th '12: My friend. Someone who takes interest in my writing, what I'm reading, and my dreams. Someone that is kind, caring, and sweet. He will enjoy helping others, work hard, and desire conversation with people. My family will love him and he will be intelligent. My friend. We will lean on each other, take care of each other, and our marriage will be a partnership. He will be good at the things I'm not good at and vice/versa. He will always kiss me good night. . . and good morning. He will know I am upset from the look on my face or the tone of my voice. My friend. My confidante. He will be extremely passionate, but not a yell-er. He will be proud that I have a pitifully dirty mouth. My friend. We will celebrate our accomplishments together, hold each other through the tears, and have one day a week in which we do something insanely fun together. My friend.
I realize that I will never get a man in armor ride in on a white steed. I will never get a man who requires the title of prince before his first name. I will never get a man who waits on me hand and foot and he may not be universally sexy. But guess what?
I don't want a man in armor. . . because who wants to cuddle up next to cold steel?
I don't want a real life prince. . . because who wants their every move watched, recorded, and photographed?
I don't want a man who waits on me hand and foot. . . because I want a man who wants a woman who can do things for herself.
I don't want a man who's universally sexy. . . because all I need is a man who is Stephi- approved sexy.
I want to wake up next to my best friend everyday. I want to be with a man who I am absolutely crazy about. . . and he'll be just as crazy about me. I want to teach him things and have him teach me things in return. He will know how to make me laugh and what my favorite comfort foods are. I want a man who will drive me crazy in all the right ways, fight with me, but know how to make up, surprise me with little texts and the occasional flower. He'll open my doors, fight me on paying the dinner bill, but let me win sometimes, too. He'll be sensitive, but know how to fix things around the house and he'll look good in sweatpants, jeans, or a nice, black suit. Most importantly, though, my prince charming will be my friend, my confidante, my partner. We may do things for each other sometimes, but most of all, we will do things together.
Needless to say the definition of my prince charming has changed as I've gotten older, gotten wiser, and learned more about myself. I don't need royalty, rock star, or ridiculously ripped- I just need incredibly kind, lovingly loyal, and a constant companion.
So, let's call this my personal ad. . . we will entitle it : Wanted: Modern Day Prince (Jack-asses, narcissists, and prejudice need not apply)
Calling all Princesses. . . What kind of prince charming tightens your corset?