Sunday, March 7, 2010

Cinderella must die

I'm venturing off topic today because frankly, all I'm doing is reknitting the Handstrikket sleeve and I don't have much to report. So forgive me this little dalliance.

I awoke this morning remembering my Cinderella watch. A gift from my mother for my seventh birthday, I fell madly in love both with the watch - and with love. Like most little girls of my generation, I WAS Cinderella; in my heart I believed that if I toiled and waited long enough in the filthy fireplace of life that some handsome dude would amble by and give me a shoe. Then I'd live happily ever after. The end. Closing credits.

My rapture heightened with the 1965 television premiere of Rodgers and Hammerstein's musical starring Lesley Anne Warren and Stuart Damon (of soap opera fame) as Cinderella and the Prince; Ginger Rogers and Walter Pidgeon as the King and Queen; Celeste Holm as the Fairy Godmother; Jo Van Fleet as the Stepmother; and Pat Carroll and Barbara Ruick as her daughters Prunella and Esmerelda.

There I was, Cinderella on my wrist and the television screen, and most of all, in my heart. I LOVED IT. I STILL LOVE IT. To this day, I can sing every note.

Fast-forward 40-plus years and I'm celebrating my 51st birthday with my bff, Theresa. Prime rib dinner to die for and plenty of time to comprehensively inventory our boyfriends and the deficiencies and disappointments inherent in our relationships. We love these guys, but c'mon, they ain't no damn Prince Charmings!

For example, Tom gave me a 25-foot Stanley LeverLock Measuring Tape for my birthday - and that's it. No armful of tulips like he'd given me for Valentine's Day nor a gorgeous sapphire ring like he gave me for Christmas. To be fair, this is exactly what I'd asked for, but still... this completely unromantic gift does not a Prince Charming make.

After more of my complaining, Theresa suggested that perhaps Tom wasn't "meeting my needs." Then it hit me: since Tom honestly and usually meets most of my needs, I (and the rest of my generation) must be the unfortunate by-product of a long-told tale of female rescue by a perfect man who - let's face it, girls - DOES NOT EXIST. I've spent a lifetime looking for that rat bastard and his glass slipper - and if I ever find him, I'm going to beat him to death with the damn shoe.

Perhaps this is maturity, or maybe just facing reality. But the fact of the matter is, Tom is a wonderful boyfriend. He is not perfect and does not come equipped with size 9.5 wide crystalline slippers customized just for my middle-aged foot. But he does love me and at this late stage of the game, that is enough. If I ever want to be happy, my inner Cinderella must die. This means I need to be content knowing he remembered my birthday at all and gave me exactly what I asked for - even if it was just a measuring tape.

After a lifetime of looking for Mr. Right, we can learn all we need to know about love from Cinderella's Fairy Godmother: It's Possible! Watch this and weep, girls, and remember that it's all a bunch of crap. Then love it anyway.


  1. Be careful what you ask for! You may just end up getting your measuring tape ;)

    My husband is far from perfect, but he is the perfect husband for me, so as far as I am concerned, I found my prince.

    Fairy tales can come true
    It could happen to you
    If you're young at heart
    La la la la la la la la

    Thanks for making me sing :)

  2. Thanks for making me smile, Michele. You're right... I'm going to aim higher in my future requests! Glad to hear you've found the just-right husband for you. That's all that matters.