In my little mini bio over there
I make a half-joking reference to my “fairytale complex.” But in all seriousness, it’s beginning to become a problem.
When you’re like three or four, everyone has that one movie that they watch over and over and over. If you were like me and were born in the 90’s it means that your parents had to rewind the VHS tape overandoverandover and they got really annoyed because it takes FOREVER every time, but it made their talkative and precocious daughter who asks too many questions SHUT UP for a few hours, so why not humour her.
Anyway, the movie that I obsessed over was Cinderella. Oooo surprise there. A lot of people ask me why I like the story so much. I mean, I’m a strong, smart, capable, modern girl, so what’s the appeal of a story where the girl needs the prince to save her? The truth is that I really don’t know. I mean, the reason that I tell people is that Cinderella follows her dreams and doesn’t let her step family get her down, etc. But honestly-and the strong, capable, modern woman inside of me hates myself for saying this-I just really do want to be rescued by the handsome prince.
I spend a lot of time being strong. I’m strong during soccer fitness sessions like today, when every muscle in my body was burning and I couldn’t breathe and all I wanted to do was lay down in the grass and not get up for a long, long time. I was strong when I crashed my car and I was scared and upset and standing on the side of a busy freeway and my dad wasn’t there to help me. And I was strong at my mom’s funeral, when a hundred or so people all wanted to hug me and talk about her and I just wanted to get out of that church and keep running until I stopped missing her. It was so hard, but I finished my windsprints, I called the tow truck, and I hugged every single goddamn person who came to that funeral and you better believe I thanked them for coming.
I am strong. I know that about myself. In fact, it was written on every sympathy card I’ve ever received (which is a lot). So maybe it makes a little bit of sense that my fantasy is that someone will waltz into my life who will take care of me; he’ll be strong for me and I can just relax and be vulnerable.
This idea has just absolutely possessed me. Every grown up and blogger and Youtube video has always told me to not get hung up on falling in love. “Don’t get to serious about relationships in high school. Just have fun with your friends,” <—- I’ve heard that so many times that I can’t even remember who said it to me first. Lis is more concerned for me than anyone because she knows me well enough to see how deeply I’m obsessed. Lis, who fell in love with her best friend in the first year of high school, constantly tells me cliche things like, “Love will find you when you’re not looking for it,” and “You don’t need a boy to complete you.”
And she’s right of course. I know these things intellectually, but I can’t quite make myself believe it deep down where it counts. I hate myself for being that girl-silly and naive and watching bad rom coms by herself. But aren’t those people who told me to stop looking for love that same ones who told me to just be myself? The thing is, I’m not proud of it, but right now this is myself.