Is Love a Fairytale?

I read a lot about psychology, modern culture, and what’s wrong with society. A common theme among most hypotheses today is that we are wrong to want the fairy tale ending as women, that it doesn’t exist. Blame Disney movies we grew up with, blame Hollywood, blame our imaginations for wanting what doesn’t exist. This notion of the fairytale is supposed to be a modern notion brought to us by a screen and actors, but nothing is real about it. I’m going to challenge this rather popular notion, because the story of the fairy tale, the ever enduring, willing to die for love, starts at the beginning of our written history.

Beginning with Adam and Eve, they defied the all mighty GOD for such a sin as love. We all know the story, or at least the important parts, we get the metaphors, and we understand it’s obviously not a true story, but it is the first love story of sorts to tell us that love, love like this is bad, it seems the writer of this story must have been a nonbeliever. Maybe in the modern day, he would try to tell me that my fairytale isn’t real, that it can never happen? Perhaps, but I think we should move forward in time a bit, or so it would seem since I know that the story I’m about to mention was actually older than the written story of the bible’s Adam and Eve, and all the other, less romantic ones. How about we talk Greek. There are too many stories to list, fairy tales it would seem, more unreal expectations for women to thrust upon less than deserving men. At least that is my opinion. Cupid and Psyche,  Orpheus and Eurydice, Echo and Narcissus, and Pygmalion and Galatea, love stories, fairy tales, fiction… or were they written metaphors for what really happened? Want to skip the Greek’s, ok, lets move on to merry Ole’ England, God Bless the Queen! Lets talk Shakespeare in that case, and the most famous of his love stories, Romeo and Juliet. It is my favorite, not because of some movie with Leo, I loved Shakespeare before it was pop culture, I’ve read this play so many times I can recite most of the lines when I watch almost any version of it being played out. It is of course one of the more tragic love stories, but the moral, the lesson to be learned is not that it’s foolish to love, the lesson is that true love is worth dying for, it’s worth everything. It’s a story that has stood through time, century after century we retell it in a hundred different ways. The lesson is the same. In no particular order, Jane Eyre and Rochester, Scarlett O’Hara and Rhett Butler, Elizabeth Bennett and Darcy, Pocahontas and John Smith, Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, Napoleon and Josephine, Tristan and Isolde, Lancelot and Guinevere, Cleopatra and Mark Antony, all love stories across time, I could go on and on and on. 

So lets discuss Disney, it’s my understanding that we should teach young girls that this will never happen, it’s a cartoon, there is no prince charming, and no one will ever love us the way he does, or is it the happy ending that bothers psychologists so much? Should we instead show them Romeo and Juliet instead, show them what can happen, and let them decide if it’s worth it for themselves? How do you teach them the fairy tale can happen, even when it ends, it’s still worth it to fall in love instead of teaching them to marry for practical reasons, to be dull and lifeless, to ignore what is in their hearts? Don’t we do enough to children to stammer their imaginations as they grow up without taking away the fairy tale too?

Why do the naysayers feel so strongly that love this strong isn’t real? It can’t happen? Is it impossible? Or have they just personally given up and settled for what was easy? Maybe it’s not possible for everyone, but I think it’s possible for those that still believe in it. I think when you give up, when you believe what the media says, and let go of your dreams, you won’t find happiness and contentment, you will find you have lost yourself. I suppose there are people out there that just don’t have it in them, they look at us dreamers as crazy, lunatics, as if we live in a fantasy. I think I prefer my fantasy, my stories, and my hope that some day, my prince will come for me. I’d rather go out in a blaze of glory than to have some wet bucket douse my fire.

There is a quote somewhere about the craziest people out there, the ones that believe that anything they dream up can happen are the ones that make their dreams come true. True invention comes from fearless heart, believing in yourself and that your dream can happen. Inventors never say something can’t happen, that it’s impossible, they would never create something unique if they did. This is the way I feel about love. Someday, my prince charming will come, maybe he did and I missed him, but I won’t quit looking for my happy ending, I know it’s out there. All the wet buckets can go find a mop somewhere to suck it up, stay away from my flame!

Virtue

World English Dictionary

virtue —  [vur-choo] noun

1. the quality or practice of moral excellence or righteousness

2. a particular moral excellence: the virtue of tolerance

3. any of the cardinal virtues (prudence, justice, fortitude, and temperance) or theological virtues (faith, hope, and charity)

4. any admirable quality, feature, or trait

5. chastity, esp in women

6. archaic an effective, active, or inherent power or force

Of the things my mother didn’t teach me, Virtue would be one of them. I’d never consider her a virtuous woman by any means either. She’s been married 5 times, has 2 children with 2 different men. She left my father when I was 5 after having an affair, and my older brother catching her in the act by hiding in the closet with a baseball bat I might add!  Not only did she not practice a chaste life, it was lacking virtue in any way shape or form and she was proud of it. She talked to me as if her exploits as a single woman were normal, ok, and to be expected in this day and age. You know, being a modern woman and all, we shouldn’t deny our urges. I could go on for ages about how fucked up my family is and the lessons I learned as a young woman. But lets just say I can identify with Agustin Burroughs in Running with Scissors, even without ever being left to live with my mothers insane shrink. We had more than enough insanity in our own house. Somehow, I just knew, and thought my whole life “don’t be like this, this is not right”. I’m sure to some extent I caught some of the crazy, the lack of virtue, I’m definitely not a virgin or a saint, but I like to think I know right from wrong.  But, still, I don’t feel my virtue is intact.

Now myself being a modern woman, have formed my own opinions on these matters of right and wrong, chastity, and all the fundamentals of virtue. I’m not sure where I got my ideas from, seeing as they certainly weren’t morals handed down by my mother or father, but somehow I think I’ve figured it out finally. I’m not speaking from a Christian point of view mind you, I’m definitely not “Christian” in the sense I believe Jesus died for our sins, or even that he was in fact the son of god, or real for that matter. However non-christian, agnostic, or whatever you want to call me, I do find value in the lessons the bible teaches. Someone had to tell people not to have sex with farm animals, only have sex with your wife (prevents the spread of diseases), don’t murder, don’t steal, and not only to live this way, but to give them a reason to live this way. I’m sure the promise of heaven wasn’t enough for everyone, reason wasn’t enough, some people need the threat of punishment, the wrath of god. Who better to teach the word of god but his own son? It’s a great idea if you think about it. But, I’m not writing this to begin a philosophical debate on the existence of god or Christianity.

Something I wonder though, can you get virtue back? Or is it one of those things, like virginity, is lost forever? Is it possible for a man to see a woman who’s led a less than virtuous life in her past as pure now? For instance, a woman my age isn’t likely to be a virgin, quite frankly I’d find it a bit strange if I hadn’t made a few mistakes along the way, however, if I were to tell the next man I date that I had no intention of having sex again until I’m married, would he take that seriously? or would he still try figuring that unlike if I were still a virgin I wasn’t serious because I didn’t feel that way in my past? I’m not saying that is what I’m going to do, but I am considering it. Not as some sort of test of faith for the guy, not just because I want to be respected, but because I want HIM to want to respect me that way. Certainly the movies say it can be done, the list is a mile long of movies that show the man falling in love with the sinner, the whore, the bad girl gone good. Pretty woman, Moulin Rouge are the best examples, Gone with the Wind, Maid in Manhattan, Unfaithful, are all close enough. I know tons of guys who go for the bad girl, I mean, clearly if I use my own mother as an example, she’s had no difficulty finding a man, hell they all want to marry her! And she has NO virtue. BUT, as an insider looking at her life, and the level of happiness she has, I know I want more. I want someone who at least treats me as if all my virtue isn’t forever lost.

Growing up in a time where the above video was my role model, I can see where things went wrong for my generation and future generations. Don’t get me wrong, it’s blasphemous and I love it, but should I at 10 or 12 years old have been looking up to this woman? Singing this in the mirror and dressing like her? Or should my mother have at least had a conversation with me about what’s wrong with her and the message she is sending and not allowed my mimicry of her? Am I being unrealistic in my expectations now, I don’t know? But I think for the act of love you should be in love. And if there is any chance of regaining my virtue, I plan on trying.

As I always encourage responses, I do not wish to be preached to about what the bible says and doesn’t say, or anything about the philosophy of religion. Please keep your religious views to yourself if they intend to convert or condemn. If you choose not to, I will delete that type of comment.

Broken

That is what I am now. I understand the hole in my chest I’m feeling now. I’ve been knocked down so many times, had my heart broken so many times, it’s now shattered, too many tiny pieces to try to put it back together again, I can’t get back up again. With each piece that was left I tried to get back up, use what was left to make it whole again, like a lizard regrows a tail, until finally, every last part is broken, gone and there is nothing left to regrow. That is the hole. It’s not a specific person or heartbreak, it’s the sum of all of them, even the little disappointments, chipping away, what I thought was mending was only going to take another sliver. I just don’t have the strength to get back up again.

This doesn’t come from recent heartbreak, it’s not from Brown, I never loved him, I barely liked him, he was though, another disappointment, the last little speck of my heart that was left, was spent trying to like him, to regrow the heart I had once upon a time. I expressed my pain to all men in my letter to him, the one I never sent and posted on here. He was however never worthy of my love, not that I had any left to give. I gave my last bit of love, my heart, to Mr. NY, and although I believe he did love me in return, he ruined that piece I gave to him, crushed it with lies and manipulation. I told him goodbye, he left the country, and those fences are not ones that can be mended. What’s done is done and I don’t regret saying what I said.

Yes, I burn, yearn, ache for true love. I fear, I know, if it finds me, I’m too broken that I’ll have nothing left to give. That part of me is missing, and I can’t share that anywhere but here. So I’ve come to a conclusion that I have to move. There is nothing left for me here, moving here in the first place was a mistake. It’s contributed to crushing what little spirit I had left in me, and all the love I had left was also lost here. I can’t look at this place anymore, I hope that if I can get far far away, some shred of who I am can be found and rebuilt. This is something I know I need to do, I need to do it alone, and maybe if I can’t rebuild who I was, I can start from scratch and build a new me, but I can’t do it here.

“There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are messengers of overwhelming grief…and unspeakable love.” — Washington Irving

Melancholy

I guess you could say I have it. I feel quiet inside, very still, somber somehow. I feel like through this mood, I’m still searching for something in my mind, another elusive epiphany maybe? No wait, that doesn’t describe it exactly either… it’s an aching, like there is a hole, part of me missing, lost, gone maybe?

It’s Friday the 13th, I believe in fact the last one of the year, the next one, next year in May, my sister will be getting married. I believe sometime after that, my other sister will be married as well. I think all my siblings being married short the one I disowned and will probably be married before me anyway, has me thinking. I wonder if I ask too much in a soul mate, a partner for life, if I should settle for less. Did they settle for less, or did they somehow seem to find exactly what I’ve been searching for my whole life? If they found it, why can’t I? Or did I and I screwed it up, letting it slip through my fingers without realizing it? I don’t know the answers to these questions, I think I don’t want to know.

I didn’t ever want to get married, I was ok with just finding “him”, my soul mate, the one I was meant to be with forever. But for some reason, probably hormonal, I started to think I wanted a family and kids and a husband. I’m not sure why for a few months I thought that, but I think it has a lot to do with what is expected of me. I think I’m back to myself again, the hormones are under control, and despite my quest to find “him”, I don’t want to marry him, I don’t feel the need to have kids anymore. My only want is what it has always been, to not settle, to find the one I know I’m meant to be with and then be with him until the day we die. It’s not that I feel incomplete, well right now I do (which is entirely new to me), but I’ve always felt like a whole person, just that part of me aches, burns, and hurts. I wish I could better express the aching in my heart that I feel ever waking hour, that has always been there, that never leaves the back of my mind, that I’ve lived with as long as I can remember. It’s always been there, even when I was too young to understand it, and I am usually able to push it deep down away from where anyone can see it, usually. Everyone sees the smiling me, the happy me, no one has ever truly seen what’s inside, I’m not sure how they would handle me if they did, but I think I wish someone could. I think I wish there was a “him” that I could share this with, who would understand instead of running away. This is just a small glimpse, of craziness, of pain, of sadness, that is always just under the surface of my smiles and nervous chatter. My art always showed a glimpse of it, but I stopped making art, it became too painful when other people saw it and knew what was inside me, especially those I loved, it hurt them to know that I hurt, it scared them to see the depths of me.

Maybe that is my destiny, to walk the earth alone, searching and never finding. Maybe there is a bigger picture for me to find along the way, something else that I’m not seeing right now. I keep finding myself speechless, nothing to say to anyone, just wanting to run away from here right now. A distraction would be good for me if I could afford the airfare or time off work.

Right now, I can’t fake it, and I know I need to by tonight, a friend needs me to be the smiling strong face she knows while she’s in a bad place. So I’m going to do my best, to kick my own ass to smile, put on the strong front I always do of the strong, smart, independent woman everyone tells me I have to be. And when my friend leaves, and I’m alone, I’ll go for a walk, in the dark, and break down again.