Why I'm Kissing ANY Frogs

After 14 years of living in sin, my boyfriend and I realized that we needed to shit or get off the pot. I voted in favor of a high fiber diet and a wedding - and he decided to get off the pot as fast as humanly possible. And overnight, I became a single woman in her mid-thirties who hadn't dated since the 1990's. Or, as they say in France, a cliche.

After spending the requisite amount of time weeping, watching Lifetime movies starring Tori Spelling and/or Meredith Baxter-Birney, eating a Haagen-Daz-centric diet, and seriously considering joining a convent, my friends staged an intervention. Well, friends is an exaggeration, since apparently, you're supposed to check in with your friends more often than once every 14 years and it appeared that I lost most of mine while cohabiting with Mr. Wrong.

So, my one friend staged an intervention and politely suggested that if I was unable or unwilling to cease the waterworks, I might want to consider "talking to a professional" about my feelings. She later admitted that my 2 AM phone calls were causing sleep deprivation for her entire household and that all the sobbing was making her a little nervous.

Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not anti-therapy. I'm all for therapy - for other people. I mean, there are a lot of crazies out there. I've been to Wal-mart. I've seen them up close. But there I was, at rock bottom, and I thought to myself, "Self," I thought, "How could seeing a therapist make things any worse than they already are?" And off I went.

My therapist is an elfin creature with a funny name. I've known him for a couple of years. During a rough patch, Mr. Wrong & I visited the Elf for couples counseling. Back then, I hated him. (The elf-therapist, not Mr. Wrong.) The only reason I contacted him this time was sheer laziness. I didn't want to expend the effort to find a new therapist and have to tell my whole darned story over again.

In the nine months since Mr. Wrong moved out, I've seen the Elf 40 times, and he's grown on me. I'll tell you that embarrassing story another time, though. A couple of months ago, the Elf told me that it was time to start dating again.

After weeks of fighting about whether or not that such a hot idea, the Elf dropped a bomb on me. "Princess," he said, "there are some people who are built for relationships. You're one of them. I want you to find the love that you're looking for and that you deserve. But you have to make an effort."

And that is the story of how this princess began kissing frogs.

© 2010 Princess D