I tried to read through a book with the same title a couple of years ago but the author seemed to focus more on her personal issues with being a dependent than on discussing independence. Long story short, her dad started H&R Block and she lived a good portion of her adult life in denial, leaving her security in the hands of her husband who squandered all of her money away and then divorced her, leaving her with a heap of debt and two daughters, then he remarried. But if you flip through the book you will find a few pages that offer practical advice that you might want to remember or earmark for future reference. Anyway, I’ve lived my life as independently as possible knowing that there is a very strong possibility that I may never find a Prince, or even a guy decent enough to trust with my well-being. This is only sad if you believe in fairy tales in the first place. Although raised on them myself, I’ve long since realized that I was sold a hefty wolf ticket so I put away such childish thoughts. Prince C. is up there with Santa Claus, in a sense. Why lie to your children, people?
When I first met my ex and we were on date #3, I think, walking back to my house after seeing The Bodyguard at the Baldwin Theater (RIP), he asked me what I was looking for and I told him, with the night stars in my eyes and whimsy in my voice, that I was looking for my prince on a white horse to come and save me. Try not to puke. I gag at the thought now. And he responded, as in love as he claimed to be, although now I just think he was horny, that he was that “guy on the horse! I’m him!” As romantic as I was back then I didn’t for a second believe him but I wanted to. And his willingness to entertain my fancy, as absurd as I knew it was, endeared me to him even more. Shortly thereafter I became pregnant with our son. And after 7 or so years almost all of the whimsy and romance had worn off and my rose tinted glasses lost their tint. So here I am today, somewhat newly single after more than a decade of playing house, and I know precisely where I am, where I’m going, and what I’d like to find along the way. But things aren’t as simple now as they were back when I was 16 or even 25. I think that without my old pink blinders on it’s become much more difficult to find a mate. This is a tad bit disconcerting. In some ways my standards have become a bit more lax; in others they’ve become more stringent. But you can’t see all that by looking at me, can you? When I do get approached, which isn’t as often as it used to be, it’s by the guys who can’t string a sentence together properly, who dress like they just stepped out of the 70s and 80s, or hopped fresh from their mothers’ womb, leaving me quite perplexed. *Le sigh. Having been bred on romance and fairy tales I’m still hopeful that the day will come when I meet my match. It’s not #1 on my list of things to do before I die, but it’s on the list, nevertheless. So in the meantime, I’ll enjoy being newly single, traveling as far as my budget will allow me, making new friends, learning new things, and smelling every gotdamn rose I come across that doesn’t look like it’ll kill me. I am patient.
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