Fairy Tale or F*cking Fromage
By Melanie BatesI was driving to school a few weeks back listening to what BBC coined their Royal Wedding Disco when the DJ pulled out Journeys classic Dont Stop Believing.I almost ran my little Beetle right off the road.How apropos. You see, I myself stopped believing in fairy tales when I was fourteen. My mom had recently married a man who would wake me each morn by yelling, Wake up and piss, the worlds on fire, through the railing of my bedroom loft. I would roll over and wonder what my mother saw in this vile man whom, with bitter irony, would get so plastered drinking Milwaukees Best that hed forget where the bathroom was and piss next to the coal burning stove. That pretty much put the royal kibosh on any romantic idyllicism that I had up to that point.Dont get me wrong. I spent a good deal of time in my life wanting to be Snow White, Cinderella, Baby ofDirty Dancing fame, andJulia Roberts in pretty much Every. Movie. Shes. Ever. Made (well, exceptSleeping with the Enemy.) Ive certainly envisioned my knight, a.k.a Johnny Depp, swooping me up to take me to Outback Steakhouse for a Bloomin Onion many, many times. But I think the older I get, the more I realize that I need to return from La-La Land posthaste. Its just not reality. And while I still enjoy me some Chick Flick action, I just feel, like so many women before me, that fairy tales in literature, television, and movies set up our little girls for epic failure in the relationship department. I just cant watch any more.The Most Realistic Portrayal of Love Ever TelevisedInstead I turn to much more realistic portrayals of love, such as that found inSex and the City. One episode in particular continues to be what I deem the most realistic portrayal of love ever televised. Harry and Charlotte were trying to bring back the romance in their marriage when Harry took Charlotte out for a lavish meal complete with a cheese cart. Later, fully sated back home, they lay in be! d, Charl otte in a negligee and Harry, well, just hairy, they began to kiss and talk about how romantic their evening was. Then Harrys stomach started to rumble. He let out a half giggle and apologized but, again, his stomach protested. Once more, he apologized and then he ran for the bathroom. In the meantime Charlottes stomach, taking a cue from Harrys, began to shout as well and pretty soon she was trotting to their second toilet. Back and forth they dashed from bed to bathrooms, until eventually they ended up in the same john, lying on the floor, clutching their stomachs, and Harry said, Ohhhh, the f*cking fromage.That, my friends, is love. It may not look romantic on the surface but lying on the floor next to your partner, after youve both just shit your guts out, speaks oodles to what real relationships are all about. Thats why I didnt watch a stitch of theroyal weddingcoverage. Personally Im not over Princess Di, the royal divorce, and her heartbreaking death. Instead, Ill just push play onThe Freak Show, my second favorite episode ofSex and the City, wherein Carrie dates a bunch of freaks, including the man who appears to have a lending library in his pants. Ive known someone similar so much for fairy tales.Would you push the cheese cart away and opt for the fairy tale or would you say, Bring on the camembert? Did you watch the royal hullabaloo? What did you think?Melanie Bates is a blogger forOwningPink.com, creator ofFemme Tales Truth with Humor, and a purveyor of cheese carts!
