Casualty of "The Fairy Tale"

I am a mysterious woman. I am alluring. I am a secret you just have to know. You will see me from across the room or park or office or restaurant or baseball field or BEACH or where ever I may be. You will feel a tightness in your heart (not the fatal kind) but the kind that makes you want to leap and dance and sing and you will have to make your way to me. You will find your way, you will look deeply into my eyes and Ala Superman pulling Lois Lane to him right before he flies off with her---you will grab me around the waist and say something magnificent. You will literally and figuratively sweep me off of my feet, the world will melt away and if I ever thought I knew love before I will know that I was wrong each and every time because THIS is it. You are perfect, and you think I am perfect and you will love me forever and we will always have dinner with a beautiful sunset in the background............Oh, and we'll probably have the most beautiful babies EVER.

This is the fairy tale. This is pretty much exactly what young girls and teen aged girls and young women and women and middle aged woman-which I've recently read that that is what I am, but I wanna laugh at the idea that I'm middle aged. I mean shit, I'd like to think that I'm PERFECTLY aged, but whatever. Anyway, I don't care how old we are every single one of us has this little fairy tale playing in the back of our minds. We wonder if it is possible, since we have heard of it happening to REAL people in REAL life...Well, at least something pretty damn close to it. It happens, right? So, we all wonder-"Where is my knight in shinning armor?" "Where is my Superman?" Where the hell is he?

I know where he is. He's in books and TV shows and movies. That's where he is. He's in books like Cinderella, TV shows like Grey's Anatomy and movies like, well....Pick any of them.

We KNOW this. We do. We know it. Even as little girls who are 3 or 4 or 5 years-old. We know it is a fantasy. We know that when we read Cinderella that mice can't sew and pumpkins do not turn into carriages. Oh, but wait a second-that man COULD be real.

It's like that scene in the "Sex And The City" movie where Carrie is reading the book to Charollet's little girl and she asks her, "You know this isn't real, you know it doesn't happen this way right?" And the little girl says, "Again!" Yes, shut up with the reality talk and just read the fantasy book again. And we tell this to ourselves and our friends over and over again. Why do we do that?

Because we WANT to believe. Because we HAVE to believe. Not so much in that crazy fantasy, but that there's going to be a man out there, maybe even a few men in our lives that will find us and Love, Love, LOVE us. And we're right.

We just have to make sure that our head's aren't in some fairy tale, that we're not too busy looking past what we have in front of us-like real men who are human and flawed just like us-while we're searching for and waiting on the fantasy man.

~V~