Cinderella’s Diamond Encrusted Pooper-Scooper

 

You’ve heard it a million, zillion times in your life.

So why are you still searching for your fairytale ending?

Stop wasting your time. Stop searching for Prince Charming in every man you come across. He isn’t there. He isn’t coming. There are no frogs to kiss. There is no magic apple. There is no Fairy Godmother waiting in the wings to turn you into the perfect princess, no mice in the walls with exceptional gown-tailoring skills. A pumpkin is just a pumpkin, be it after midnight or ten-thirty-six in the morning.

No. Fairytale. Endings.

Period.

Look at it this way: Should Prince Valiant ride up to you on his big white horse to sweep you off your feet and take you to his castle on the hill, you know what you have tomorrow? A big load of horseshit to clean up.

Once we graduated from crayons to pencils, we became too old to get wrapped up in this Disney-fed happily ever after crap. Yet, here we are– some of us well into our thirties and forties– still finding ourselves repeatedly disappointed when it turns out our new-found prince farts in his sleep or would rather watch the game than turn an eye in our direction. Ladies and Gentlemen, I’m here to tell you: There isn’t a man walking this planet who doesn’t fart in his sleep. And frankly, so do you.

“Happily Ever After” only happened if Cinderella and Prince Charming dropped dead by the end of that week.

Relationships, if they’re going to work, require work, but for some reason we don’t want to do it. We want to find that “soulmate,” and we think that once he’s found there isn’t a stitch of work to be done beyond the utterance of those three magic words. If you’re still clutching with both fists that belief, stop. You’re on the express train to disappointment-ville and it’s going to crash soon.

The problem is we tend to mistake that new car smell of a budding relationship for true love. Those first few months seem like the absolute embodiment of everything we’ve ever wanted in love and before you know it, we’re hooked. We’re addicted, quite literally, to the rush of new love. (Studies have been done about the chemical reactions that happen in the brain when we fall in love, but that’s another blog for another time.) At first it’s perfect! It’s the fairytale I’ve been looking for! This guy is everything I’ve ever wanted! My new boyfriend! True Love Always! Horray!

A year later you’re sitting on the couch watching him crack a beer and scratch his butt wondering what ever happened to your perfect mate. What happened was: He’s just another flesh and bone mortal. Just like you.  There was nothing mystical about the creation of this human being.  He’s just a man, and chances are he loves you as much as a mortal man can, but…  Cinderella didn’t mention this part, did she?

So you break it off and start the search anew. You start the cycle again with a new man and a year later, you’re sitting on the couch seething because…..

See the pattern? Sometimes the ugly truth is: It really isn’t him. It’s you. You’ve been duped into relationship laziness by Hollywood depictions of relationships that probably wouldn’t have worked in real life either. Isn’t this cipher making you dizzy? Stop for a moment, take a deep breath and ask yourself:

When he rode up on that big white horse, didn’t you realize it was going to poop eventually?

 

I’m posting this from my other blog for two reasons:  1.  I’ve been working like a dog all week covering the ass of someone who clearly has no clue about life, love or how to be a productive human being on the planet.  So I didn’t have the time or access to humor to prepare anything for today.  2.  I’m deleting that blog today.  I don’t really like Wordpress.  I haven’t decided if I want to move it to Blogger, or just delete it all together.