It's bullshit. I refuse to teach my girls about prince charming because the only rescue they can count is their faith, their heart and their mind. The fairy tale Disney invented is a hoax and the quicker they learn that, the better off they will be.
I know this is rather cynical, but the truth is what it is. I'm an optimist, a hopeless romantic who believes that good will always triumph and that man has good intentions. Of course we run into a few bad apples along the way, but look on the bright side . . .
When I was 21, I met prince harming who, through his craftiness, convinced me that paradise with him was always around the next corner. That life would ease up as long as I had faith in him and if I did my due diligence, if I was a good girl - I would have him and the world.
It's rather silly, but I believe in the big picture. I hope for the final outcome to be good, full of justice and exactly as we plan, but that wasn't the case in this story. Well . . . that's not entirely true; there is an awesome outcome, but getting to the best took getting through the worse.
And how he captured my attention was a classic con-man move. He played sympathetic to my childhood trauma; a pious saint ever ready to help. In my subconscious mind, the place where Cinderella dwelled, I instinctively gravitated towards this man with the hopes of being rescued. The classic story playing it's part, instilled in me since I first heard and saw the heroine tale of prince charming rescuing the damsel in distress.
Confiding my fears, hopes and dreams, this man was gathering intel; how could he use this to ensare me. The defining moment, the critical moment of capture came when I stood in his video store after hours and he posed a seemingly innocent question, "Who are you?" I was baffled. No one ever asked me that question and I hardly knew the answer.
Every answer I gave and every utterance was rejected; I was on the verge of tears while he stood so valiantly coy. Freshly educated, taught to give a quick answer and open to any debate - this man had me stupefied. How could he dumbfound me? How could he confound the wise? Yes, I was slightly arrogant but I used it to ward away penetrating questions that would delve into the recesses of the pain I carried.
I assume he immediately knew that very moment he had me in the palm of his hands. A naive girl who believed in fairy tale endings, who desperately wanted to be Cinderella. Don't all girls want a strong man, a handsome and daring man to rescue them from the depths of pain and misery? I just wanted someone to right the wrongs and tell me I was loved.
We stood there in the dim lit video store . . . the embarrassment of not knowing who I was washed over my body and I wanted to cry; to curl up and simply cry. And with his calm demeanor and look of satisfaction he said, "I know who you are."
