One Damsel Distresses

As little girls, females are consistently reminded that they need a man to achieve their dreams. In fact, many fairytale stories only allow the female protagonitst to "succeed," "win," become "victorious," etc after they attain a man--despite the male's possible flaws. Think about it. Cinderella goes from slave to princess only after she finds her prince "charming" (who...lets face it ladies...most likely had a foot fetish).

Furthermore, in the conclusive scene of "Snow White,"the prince has no problem kissing his beloved while she lays in a casket...possibly deceased. Creepy much? Yet this disturbing act of weirdness earns him the life-long affection of the affable Snow. WTH??!!!


Growing up, my childhood was no different than anyone elses. My mother, ever the nurturing care-taker, generally filled my head with childish notions of ever-lasting love, princes, and enchantement. Even as early as kindergarten, my teacher (Mrs. Hutchinson...yep I remember her name), often relayed to my mother that my fictional writing stories were often about a woman finding her life-long love. I can still remember, at age 6, throwing hard-earned pennies into the Tallahassee Mall foutain--wishing for the gift of princess-dom. In my own mind, I was a princess---dressing in beautiful dresses with lavish hair bows, and living in my beautiful two story "palace." Simply stated, until 2nd grade, my main objective in life was beginning the search for the prince who would surely ensure my happiness .

And then...everything changed. In third grade, my parents got a divorce....and my world crumbled. It seemed that everything I had once counted on as a constant was now gone. My dad moved out of our "palace," and the house just changed. In an effort to appease us, and probably her own negative memories, my mom let us paint our rooms in funky, vibrant colors which destroyed the classy, traditional aspects of the house. Gone was my "palace," and so too the bed-time stories. Instead of listening to fictional, night-time tales, I now watched my rela-life two single parents struggle to give us life's luxuries. Though it was initially tough, both my parents did a terrific job at making a single parent home feel normal. I never wanted for love, food, or even any extras. And so it was I got set into a potentially dangerous pattern.

At the age of 8, both my parents began teaching me the unending importance of attaining your own independence. My mother, on a teachers salary, took my sister and I to almsot every state in the United States, and educated us on the values travel. Furthermore, she unconciously illustrated that a woman's ultimate job was to stand on her own two feet--and to never depend on a man. My father, on the other hand, enstilled in us the value of ourselves. He coached our sports teams, encouraged our academic efforts and so forth. Once again, perhaps unkowingly, my dad subliminally told me that I was just as good as a boy--and didnt need one to succeed in life.
Throughout high-school, I spent my days obsessed with a boy I KNEW was not compatible to my own life. Why, you may ask? Because subconciously I wanted to keep myself away from any threat of a relationship. And as the time went by, things didn't get any better. In college, things arguably even got worse. Testing the waters, I did begin dating...and became a person I am currently ashamed of. Most usually, throughout college, a well-meaning, nice guy would take me on an expensive date, express interest, .......and then never hear back from me. I can still remember saying to my friend Gamble, at some point in our college career, "oh so and so called me," and her responding "ummm....are you going to call them BACK??!!" I can honestly say the thought had never crossed my own mind. As a sophomore in college, about the best a guy could expect from me was a possible text message back--and that was ONLY if I really respected him.

Finally, after a second attempt, I began dating my current boyfriend at age 19. He was hilarious, outgoing, fun, silly, skilled, intellegent, crazy, handsome, adventurous, and everything I ever thought I would find in a mate. But perhaps his most winning aspect, in the context of my life, is his never-ending ability to handle who I really am. My boyfriend, to date, has never halted me from any "girls only" event, asked me to "stay in" with him, or change my personality in any way to be with him. He empathizes, and even encourages my own independence; complete with individual friends and life. Furthermore, he expresses CONSISTENTLY his pride in my academic acheivments...and makes me feel as if I (solely) hang the moon every day. I am never left card-less on a holiday, or important event; signaling his understandign of my sensetivity. I always refer to my current boyfriend as the only man I've ever dated who is completley self-sustaining....which is most likely why I am still with him today.


But from time to time, those old fears still come back to haunt me. There are undoubtedly instances where small things between us seem big only because of my own fears. Or times where I muse upon why too many good people end up divorced. And even times when I'm really scared about the future. Ultimatley, there are times when I am terrified of becoming the woman I heatedly despise--the woman who is nothing without a male counterpart.

An instance such as this occured last night. My boyfriend had gone home for the weekend, leaving me with the big apartment to myself. As I lay restless in bed...I began hearing scary noises, imagining images, and so forth. Instantly, I wished for his presence--and immediatley hated myself for thinking it. Logically, it was silly for me to think such things. I lived by myself for almost 2 years before moving, and had traveled home solo on more than three occasions. This, in turn, was my boyfriends FIRST alone trip back to Tallahassee. It was both spiteful and ridiculous of me to wish such things.....and I knew it. At 2 AM in the morning, I really began hating that the aforementioned thought had found me. As if I was so lost, for only on short day/night, that I couldnt stand the house without him. I started wondering if I hadn't lost myself, my identity, my respect for myself. It was an unproductive train of thoughts to say the least.


Finally, at 3 AM....I had an epiphany. The reason I was missing him, in all reality, was because I missed him and only that. I missed having my partner to talk to, to laugh with, to eat with, and so forth. Orlando was not the same without him....but I was. I finally had to admit to myself that it was okay to just miss my love; that it didnt necessarily make me weaker or more vulnerable. I finally realized that I could be a strong woman; independent and secure--and still rely on a man for emotional support.




At last,night pryor, I realized that I had achieved my own fairy-tale ending. And, after all,isnt that really what any good princess could ever hope for?