Glass Slippers Just Show Our Nasty Feet to Everyone

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Somewhere in all that sea of "everyone" we tend to be concerned with are our potential partners, we rationalize, and that is why we have to care. But it's exhausting. At some point, we need to grow the fuck out of that. I did. In my thirties.

The mainstream changes from decade to decade, and I have never really been too good with following it anyway. I like to do what makes me comfortable in my own skin. A lot of my demeanor comes from the music that fuels my life, and that music tends to be on the more alternative scale, into branches of punk, ska, and heavier rock. So I look into the mirror and find a curvy, dancing, punk rock girl looking back at me and wondering if someone out there looks at the same thing and says "beautiful."

It's rather common. I am a woman. We all do this. We can say "I don't care what anyone thinks" until we are blue in the face, but if that was really true, cosmetics and fashion would not be the billion dollar industries that they are.

We do care. Those of us that are single don't necessarily want to die this way. So we seek our Prince Charming. But I think the biggest thing I have had to explain to myself, and to my friends at the same time, was that PRINCE CHARMING DOESN'T EXIST... and that's ok! What does is exist is us. Who we are. On the inside. Our heart, our soul, and that person we work to perfect. The person we seek is not a prince. The person we seek is a concept. What we seek is LOVE.

When we are little girls, we want the dream. We want the castle and smiles that never end and the fairy tale love that only makes sense until the first broken heart we encounter. Then we start on the process of learning that love is not a theory. Love is a living breathing concept that has to be fed and nurtured, or it will die. We usually don't learn this until we have had it and lost it. I know I didn't.

I had two engagements, one marriage, one divorce, and numerous broken hearts. I was duped, fooled, toyed with, played, and used. I was a rebound. I had a rebound. I took love apart into tiny little pieces and I put it back together, and I cried myself to sleep because it didn't look the same. I had love that I didn't know what to do with, and I let it fall apart and wash down the drain. I have been on the top of the world, and down in the sewer from the standard effects of love.

I read once that you can get the same effect from eating a lot of chocolate. I think the person that said this was heartbroken and probably a woman with PMS. There is nothing that compares to love when it is real, when it is reciprocated, and when it is brand new. There is nothing that hurts more than love when it falls apart. After we have had and lost, and had again and lost, we still search.

Even after we declare we would rather hypnotize ourselves into loving vagina (as my best friend and I have said on more than one occasion... then we remember that vaginas are weird) we still crave what we once experienced. So we keep looking for that Prince Charming. What I think we are really looking for is a concept, not a person. We don't actually believe that anyone is coming out of nowhere to sweep us away in bliss. What we want is that goofy smile Cinderella had as she danced. We want the birds to sing, and the music to play (even if only in our heads, and for me, probably Depeche Mode...), and the world to suddenly get warmer.

Love is real. The trick is to know that before love comes from anyone else, it has to come from inside of us. We have to love who we are before we will ever know what to do with someone else's love again. It gets harder as we get older and we have already been through our share of battles in this war to find happiness. But we can find it.

Stop looking outside.

Start looking inside.


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