The Real-Life Fairytale

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Image by hjjanisch via Flickr

Ok, it’s happened. I’ve been sucked in.  It was inevitable I suppose, I am after all a hopeless romantic. I am irreversibly, irresistibly hooked on the story of Will and Kate and I will be settling down on my girlfriends couch tomorrow afternoon to watch the televised wedding with a slight twinge of glee and I suspect, a great deal more wistfulness.

I watched the telemovie “story” of the couple last night as I sipped at my very average home-cooked chicken soup, whilst talking (yes actually talking – amazing) to The Crush on the phone.  Of course he was able to call me because he was back in the middle of nowhere and quite frankly, there is nothing else for him to do but call me.  Yes there goes the cynical voice again, making itself heard.  When questioned as to why he didn’t call over the weekend when he promised he would, his response was a less than adequate “I forgot”. Hmmm, not really doing it for me given that having had keyhole surgery on his knee on Saturday, he was under strict orders from the surgeon to rest up and not aggravate it.  Thus, after complaining at length at how he consumed far more chocolate than he should have (given he is incapable of burning it off through exercise) because –and I quote- there was nothing else to do but eat chocolate, I am left wondering, exactly how far down the list of priorities am I, that in is bored-chocolate-consuming state, he was unable to find 5 minutes to pick up the phone.  I’m not sure which is worse, the fact that he can’t find 5 minutes in his day to speak to me, or the fact that he can’t seem to remember to speak to me!

That said, he professes to miss me terribly, he claims to have fallen for me, he declares he can barely contain his excitement at the prospect of seeing me again.  But they are just words aren’t they, and as someone else said recently:  Talk is cheap.

And so it was that as this conversation was unfolding, I was witnessing Kate being ignored and de-prioritised until she had finally had enough and wound up stepping out of the car and walking away, only to have her Will a short time later, discarding his shoes and jacket in preparation for launching himself into a cold river for a chance to speak with her.  In the end it was she who dived in and swam to him (according to the movie), something I was slightly disappointed about, I must admit.  But nonetheless, he made the effort, he fought to get her back. It got me to thinking of all the men who have never fought for me.  My ex-fiancé being perhaps the only exception, he did try to cajole me for months after our break-up, but perhaps through my own fault, I had let him neglect me for so long that even though he did try to rekindle our connection, it was too long lost.  Mind you, I don’t think even he would have considered risking humiliation in front of a women’s rowing team and threatening to dive fully-clothed into a murky river for me.  He was a little too cool for that. 

But what is it about these stories that leaves me tearing up and wishing for a man to love me so much to fight tooth and nail for the chance to get me back, to risk whatever is necessary, just for the chance to speak to me? Does that kind of love really exist? We all see the fairytale, the beautiful girl, the prince, the grand wedding and the beautiful ring. 

But at the end of the day, they are [mostly] normal people, who will have [mostly] normal problems and it won’t all be rosy. 

However, even with that thought in mind, when I watch that wedding I will be unable to help but wish that I had someone who is crazy about me, someone who makes sure he calls when he says he will because he doesn’t want me to get the wrong idea and risk having me walk away.  Someone who I love enough to still be excited to see them at the end of the day, when the sun is setting set on all of the petty arguments and I am having to replace the cap on the toothpaste that he has left off for the millionth time…

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