Prince Charming

I have a Prince Charming, sort of. He's the pinnacle, the reigning prince of perfect, he's the one every man out there on a white horse or vintage 10 speed is competing with whether he knows it or not.

He's my Mennonite, talented musician, Rook playing, active, world traveled, adventurous, gentle, fun loving man. And he's not mine, nor does he even know me to be honest. I doubt Arielle really knew the Prince. She knew enough to somehow want him, to believe he was better then the Mermen of the Sea with their rippling chests and shiny scaled tails. So sure they were equal on the chests front, but were lungs and legs enough to sway her heart? I guess so. Apparently his talent with the Rook and drums is enough to give this girl's heart over.

I'm not sure when he took control of the spot, or maybe it has always been his, which would not surprise me, I knew him before I liked boys. Which would mean he took up residence before I knew of his mad organ playing skills or his bike ride across Canada. He functions like Carrie's Mr. Big, unattainable, unavailable and yet the attachment was unbreakable. I would love to dethrone this one, but I am unsure of how, of how to have him abdicate his throne for another, a real and non-mystical love for all time.

In the interim, I feel like Sleeping Beauty, paralyzed, in this limbo of waiting. However mine of course is more metaphorical, and is in some way of my own choosing, and is in my hands to control, sort of. There is still his tether to the floral platform of blissful bondage. My waiting is not like hers, my life is still going on, I'm aging - she did not apparently or she waited a really short time. I'm getting to experience emotions and life and all those twist the tether and chafe me, but here I am trying to start my own emotional and intellectual coup, an internal act of treason just so I can move on to another and start the process all over again.



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