First, come from a long line of fairy tales come true. It’s in your blood. Your mother and father met as neighbors. They were high school sweethearts who were destined to marry and spawn the all-American nuclear family. Daughter, son, dog. Grow up in the suburbs where nuclei slowly divide. Your dad spends his free time in the living room, waiting to die. The computer I.V. is his one lifeline. It keeps him barely conscious. Wake him up occasionally. Your mom spends her free time in the kitchen. She does not need to be conscious. She does housework. Listen to the phone ring. No one bothers to answer the telemarketers’ calls. The distance between the living room and the kitchen is 4 feet, a gulf wider than the Grand Canyon. Try to bridge the gap. This is how your parents spend their 25th wedding anniversary. Happily ever after. Buy them an answering machine.
Ask to hear again the story of how your grandmother and grandfather also met as neighbors. Your grandfather asked your grandmother for a date the day before he left for the war. Her evil mother would not let her go. Wonder why. Find out her mother was schizophrenic and drove her father to alcoholism. Hope you do not become your great-grandmother. Your grandmother and grandfather kept in touch during the war. They fell in love through the letters. Wish you could read those letters. They married in a courthouse upon your grandfather’s return and produced the all-American nuclear family. Daughter, daughter, daughter, daughter, daughter, son, son, dog. Now, they have an empty nest. They travel cross-country. The distance between them on their motorcycle is 2 centimeters. It seems closer. Receive a postcard from Alaska signed "With love, Grandma and Grandpa." This is how they spend their 50th wedding anniversary. Happily ever after. Buy them an answering machine.
In sixth grade, fall in love with your neighbor. He is your best friend. He does not care that you weigh 200 pounds. Deny your feelings for him whenever anyone teases you about it. Plan your all-American nuclear family in your diary. Daughter, son, dog. Cry the night after he tells you about the crush he has on a pretty girl in school. Set them up. She will dump him for John Doctor. Keep the cheap necklace that he steals for you from the mall. Forget that he stole one for her too. In eighth grade, he moves to Mississippi. Wonder what he is doing. Later, hear that he became a drug addict and dropped out of high school. Happily ever after.
In ninth grade, overhear an anonymous boy talking about you in the hall. As you walk by, he says to his friends, "If I were a girl and looked like that, I would kill myself." Cry in the bathroom. Seriously think about it. Go home and write a poem about a girl who believes in fairy tales, in happily ever after. Have the heroine die.
Lose 50 pounds.
Go on your first date ever. Senior Prom. Be set up by a friend. It is a double date. He is her Ex. He is twenty-one. He does not notice that you look like Cinderella. He is still in love with your friend. Try to distract him long enough for one dance. Wonder why you wasted all this money on this dress. It is a size 10. You have never fit into a size 10 before. He takes you home early. Feel your palms sweat as he walks you to the door. He jams his tongue down your throat like he's lost something down there and is trying to find it. Your first kiss. Push him away. Hear him say, "Call me," as you run inside the door. Never see him again.
Go to college. Lose 10 pounds. Make new friends. Learn new things. Be self-reliant.
Try to be social. Go to frat parties even though you do not enjoy them. Feel like you do not belong there. Mingle. Dance. Drink. Hope Prince Charming is hidden behind the drunken idiots who are swallowing live goldfish out of fish bowls. Find out too late that the prince in the corner is really a frog. He says he will call. Your answering machine says, "You have…no…messages." Give up on socializing.
Get on the Internet. Chat with strangers. Retreat from reality for awhile.
Go home for the summer. Work in a warehouse. Hear about a mysterious guy at work who resembles Chewbacca from Star Wars. Feel oddly compelled to meet him. Meet him. He has long dark hair and a full beard. Hairy, like Chewbacca. Get to know him. Flirt. Make leading comments about movies you want to see. Hope he gets the hint. He does. One date becomes two, and two become four. Fall in love with him. Lose your virginity. Forget about his pregnant girlfriend and son. Believe him when he says it is over between them. Plan your all-American nuclear family. Step-daughter, step-son, step-dog. Lie to yourself. Nine months later there is silence in your dorm room. You have not heard from him in a week. Call him. His answering machine will inform you that he is not in right now, but if you leave your name and number he will get back to you. Have a dream about a rotten banana giving birth to a wart hog. Dreams do come true. He returns to his girlfriend and their nuclear family. Daughter, son, dog. Read his wedding announcement
in the paper. Happily ever after. Throw it away.
Get on the Internet. Chat with strangers. Retreat from insanity for awhile.
Rebound. Join an Internet dating service. Meet Mr.
Would-Be-Right-If-He- Didn’t-Have-Some-Psychological-Issues-About-His-Mother. Date him for three months. He is the life of the party. You are not. He wants to be "friends with benefits." You do not. You want a commitment. He does not. Fall in love with his best friend. The friend is aspiring to be a writer, meaning he is unemployed. Have deep conversations. Form a bond. Express your feelings. He will not reciprocate. He is not ready for a commitment, either. Turn off the Internet. Run into them a month later. Both are in serious relationships with prospective Cinderellas.
Happily ever after.
Date. Date. Date. One date takes you to the carwash. Another buys you a purple plastic rose from a gas station. A third brings you a cheeseball. A fourth wants to play one-on-one basketball. You hate basketball. Consider forgetting Prince Charming and settling for the frog. Don’t. Give up on dating. Go dancing. Return home with both of your shoes on.
Check your answering machine. "You have...no...messages." Take a summer class, join a gym, find yourself. Stay so busy that you forget to check your empty answering machine. Go to a family reunion. When asked if you are seeing anyone, try not to cringe. Forget happily ever after. Embrace your singleness. Secretly watch A Wedding Story on television. Envision their happy all-American nuclear families. Daughters, sons, dogs. If anyone asks, tell them you are flipping channels. Keep your cynical reputation. Most important, keep believing. Every fairy tale cynic has a nagging deep-seated dream that she must cover up. A happily ever after.
