I’d like a moment with the person who coined the phrase “Happily every after”. That whacked out individual  that set me up to believe that  I’d be rescued from spinsterhood by a hunk on a white horse carrying diamonds. And of course, my diamond was always going to be pink!  I’d create a ballroom in my closet sized room to stage the matrimonial bliss. I would wear my pillow case as a veil and line my Cabbage patch dolls up as my wedding guests.  I’d serve them tea and drift off to a honeymoon by the sea in my dreams. Mi Castle es su Castle!   This hunk of course was wealthy, had his own airplane and a yacht that cruised the warmest waters of the Caribbean.

Well its 35 years later and all I can ask is – What is holding this Prince Charming up?  He’s about 10 years late and my mascara has permanently stained my cheeks from tears.

So much for the happy ending, I’d settle for a beginning with a simple cowboy, Chef, heck I’d even take the mailman at this point.  Unfortunately our lives are far from fairy tales.  I’m not jetting off to faraway lands with my butler carrying my Gucci luggage.  Reality is quite far from that picture. I’ve gone from make-believe play to playing with electric objects while giving Ben and Jerry a good spooning.   We face that happily ever after somehow got the “Happy” wrong.

As women we are feelers, emotional beings who can turn the smallest gesture into a tearjerking screenplay. How amazing does it feel to find flowers in your mailbox or a cute card under your pillow.  Problem is once you get a taste of it, you want more and more.  You become dependent on that feeling, and you long for the next time.  Each scented flower brings you joy and makes you smile.  the air beneath your feet is lighter and you float thru the following days with the air of royalty.  A week later you find the wilted petals have made a mess of your table and the water is a murky moldy mess. But you cannot bear to throw them away.  Why? Because you are attached to those flowers and for a brief week in your life, you were that princess again.

So maybe Happy and Happily Ever After are not one in the same.  Maybe we can be happy with the moment we are in and forget about the “ever after” bit.  Why does my fairy tale have to end with the prince rescuing me?  And better yet just one prince?  Who knows, maybe my happy ending involves the barista who drives a Trek bike to work.