Skip to main content

Wedding Schmedding


hope these are taxpayer funded sick bags!
I can not tell you how excited I am that the royal nuptials are taking place today. It's not because of the amazingly bad 
awesome royal wedding souvenirs that are available either (click that link, you won't be sorry).
No, I am counting down the hours to this wedding so that I can quit frakking hearing about it. If I hear one more person use the word "fairytale" I'm gonna need to order one of those Royal Wedding barf bags.
Why are Americans so obsessed with the royals and their weddings? It can't just be about the ceremony. Seriously, I mean if Americans really cared that much about weddings wouldn't they vote to let everyone get married so they can watch even more grotesque hemorrhages of money in the name of love? It's gotta be about the "fairytale".
Women (and some of my best gay man mates) are still in love with the idea that some Princess Charming is going to swoop in, sweep them off of their feet and in to a life of privilege. A life where they won't have to worry about anything. They won't have to work at a job where they are undervalued, or make any decisions about which health insurance option to buy, or use a vacation day to wait for the damn cable dude. Trust me- I get the allure of being taken care of (and of having a servant to wait for that cable dude or dudette). But do we honestly believe that just because the word Princess or Prince precedes a name that they don't have any problems? Everyone, no matter how rich or famous or glamourous, has problems. Give up the fairytale! It doesn't exist.
Now, I'm not saying that two people can't meet and fall in love and be happy ever after. I firmly believe that such a marriage (legal or not) can exist. But it won't be perfect every moment. To enter in to a relationship with the idea that it can be perfect imprinted all over your subconscious is not only naïve, but puts a crushing amount of pressure on your partner.
So, if you, or someone you know suffers from Cinderella Complex, buy Stephanie Vermeulen's 2007 book, Kill the Princess: Why Women Still Aren't Free From the Quest for a Fairytale Life and give it a read.
Labels:

Comments

Anonymous said…
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
April 29, 2011 at 7:20 PM
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Subject: Mini Kiss just ate the last bagel

In 2005 I was living the high (mediocre) life in the city of Angels, L.A. working in this business we (they, or someone) called show. I wasn't just working in television, I was working in live television. And as if that wasn't enough of a chaotic setting for a great story for you, I also happened to be working for the first (yes, FIRST EVER) GLBTQ television network, appropriately called: Q Television Network with absolutely no experience. The details of how I found myself living in LA as a fresh college senior dropout from the tiny little hipster hotspot of Denton, TX will come later; because rest assured, I had no lifelong desire to work in production. I was a poetry major after all. On this particular sunny day I'm sitting in my office, with my staff (yes, at 23 I had a STAFF! Small, but still...) when I receive an email on my Sidekick. The sender was Jon, a new friend I'd made who worked in acquisitions. The subject was: Mini Kiss just ate the last bagel. The b...
1 comment
Read more

Morning pick me up

So it's Tuesday at 6:14 a.m. I am a rockstar. I am jogging with my dog, plowing through my novel's plot points in my head and feeling fan-bloody-tastic. And thennnn..... my alarm goes off. I snooze for the next hour while my pudgy dog snores next to me. After the 6th snooze button, I hoist myself off of the bed and down the hall to clean all the only-in-my-dreams exercise sweat off. As the foamy white toothpaste drips down my chin I think of old people. Old people eating breakfast. I don't usually eat breakfast. Will I ever be old if I don't like breakfast? Are there old people that don't eat breakfast? Surely not. Bruce (my faithful corgi mix) flops his body down with a fleshy thud at my feet. The rush of air from his flop blew the thoughts of old people and breakfast from my head and I leave them suspended in the bathroom near the stacks of washcloths. I grab Bruce's leash and let him lead the way around the neighborhood. As I'm passing the Hillary '08...
Post a Comment
Read more

What an @s$hole

I found Bruce rather by accident about 6 years ago while running errands for my grieving grandmother. She had just lost her third child (of six) and asked me to deliver various payments and run general errands around town.  I found myself at the florist placing orders for the funeral, painfully selecting "elegant but not too flashy" thank you cards, dropping a check off for an urn, and lastly paying the gas bill (Don't be late! That's due! {not for another two weeks it wasn't} It'll ruin my credit if I'm late!) My grandmother was the queen of early. She had me convinced that my inspection and registration stickers actually expired the month PRIOR to what the sticker indicates. I would hurriedly rush to the mechanic for an inspection on the 31st of the month, out of breath- "Please don't take me to jail!" My college roommate discovered what I'd been doing and she set the record straight.  Ironically, empowered with this new lackadaisy atti...
1 comment
Read more