It was just over a year ago that I declared myself a princess and began kissing frogs in the earnest hope that I’d find a prince and live happily ever after. After a few false starts, some pretty big disappointments, and some questionable decisions, I began a relationship with Suitor #1 and discovered maybe I’m not really ready for my fairy tale ending after all. Or am I?
Although 2010 didn’t have an auspicious start, it was most certainly the “Summer of Princess”. I found myself in a new city, surrounded by new people, and pursuing a new career. I felt as if I’d finally been set free from the shackles of my past and not only was I excited about the future but I was truly happy in the present. In fact, so great was my optimism that I let a friend convince me to seek the counsel of a spiritual healer. For the low cost of $150, I could commune with my guardian angels and spirits, let go of the crap that bogged me down, and maybe get some help making decisions about my future. At least, that was the plan . . .
And like the best laid plans, it didn’t quite go the way I expected. First off, I managed to wreck a rental car to the tune of $4,000 smackeroos on my way back to the office after my “healing” – a fact whose irony is not lost on me since one might think that one’s spirit friends might help a sister out and perhaps warn her of the impending doom. (One would be wrong, clearly.)
The healing itself was interesting. It began with a lot of hoo-doo, voodoo involving incense, aromatherapy, smudging, and hand waving over my so-called third eye and girly parts for reasons unbeknownst to me. The healer conferred with her spirit friends and then asked me a variety of questions ranging from “Do you suffer from PMS?” to “Are you missing someone whose name starts with an N?”
In retrospect, I’m not sure her questions were super-insightful or guided by voices from the great beyond, but in the moment, laying on a table with a Kleenex over my third eye, it all seemed very profound. How did she know about my PMS? Who told her about my friend, Nate? Upon further reflection, I realize that she actually went through most of the letters prior to “N” in alphabetical order before she hit the nail on the head, but again, that’s hindsight talking.
The healer and I did have a most interesting discussion, however, about a man whose acquaintance I’d recently made. I’m not sure whether to call him frog or friend, so I’ll just call him “that one”. Although I only met That One in the flesh in August, his reputation preceded him and I’d actually known of him for many years as we shared a mutual and very dear friend (whose name started with N) who departed for the great beyond ten years ago.
That One and I made an immediate connection. We celebrated the life of our dear friend, swapped stories, and wiped each others’ tears. And then we realized that we had so much more in common than just shared grief, and we began a wonderfully fulfilling relationship. We laughed, we cried, we saw Jackass 3D.
And, okay, I’m not going to lie to you. I let That One into my heart and he stole it. A Saturday night Target run with That One rivals any date I’ve ever been on for both fun and romance factor, believe it or not. Everyone warned me to be careful with That One. “Remember, Princess . . . you loved his friend. Don’t transfer your feelings for Departed N to That One.” I monitored my feelings vigilantly and denied them even to myself.
One day, That One and I were for a friendly dinner when he dropped a bomb on me. He was worried I was falling for him. This signaled the beginning of the end, and sadly, I lost not only a good friend but also a connection to my past – and my newfound hopes for a happily ever after. I blame the stupid healer. She and her dumb-ass spirit guides convinced me that That One was actually “The One” – and that the great and powerful N wanted nothing more than for us to make a go of it.
Much like Frog #6, I convinced myself that the otherwise very heterosexual That One was actually gay, because all members of the opposite sex immune to my princess wiles are clearly married, gay or priests. I nursed my bruised heart and decided to take a little break from frog kissing in lieu of a little more fun.
Did I sit home every night? Absolutely not. Instead, I dated all kinds of interesting characters from recovering drug addicts to convicted felons to wanna-be underwear models. (In my defense, I didn’t know they were felons or drug addicts until afterwards But the underwear models were deliberately chosen for their good looks and chiseled abs.) I threw myself into work and spent time hanging out with some of my guy friends I’d been neglecting, and I got a glimpse behind enemy lines as the boys let me into their dating lives. Thus began a social experiment that’s already provided enough fodder for my first novel. As we close the books on 2010, I thought I’d share some of the wisdom I gained in the last quarter of the year . . .
A few key learnings:
- When a male asks a female, “Would you like to watch a movie”, what he really means is, “How’d you like to get to know me in the Biblical sense?”
- Most males who claim to be looking for the real thing are looking for something entirely different. Rather, they just want to watch as many movies as possible with as many females as possible, but apparently, that type of honesty is repulsive to the opposite sex.
- 90% of men operate on a different measurement system than women do. Any man who tells you he is 5’10” tall is somewhere between Oompla Loompa height and 5’7”.
- Cell phone technology, while making us more efficient and connected, allows people to send all kinds of vulgar things to each other with the touch of a button. And apparently, I’m the only one who sees this as a problem.
That’s all the news that’s fit to print for 2010, folks. Happy New Year.
© 2010 Princess D
