I told a young woman I know there is no such thing as Prince Charming. Then I felt kind of bad because it’s not true. It’s just – well – the Prince Charming thing is hard to define. What used to bug me about the expression itself was that it implied a helpless female who needed saving. Then I got to thinking, one, there is nothing helpless about the woman I was talking to and two, I have never needed saving. I can pull myself up by my own stiletto straps, thank you. Yet, I am in a relationship with a man who comes as close to Prince Charming as is possible. Someone who takes care of me with tenderness that is genuine and who loves my independence as much as he loves my boobs, and that is saying something. What, then, constitutes a Prince Charming?
Well, they fart.
Nobody tells you that. They fart and belch and can still smell like shi- a boy sometimes.
They like golf.
Ugh. Golf. Does anyone else get anxiety from watching golf? Luckily, the prince will happily watch it by himself while I do anything else. Oh. Also. They like recliners as a home fashion statement.
Plus, they bring you coffee with froth and freshly shaved cinnamon sprinkles in the morning because they know how you like to wake up very, very slow. And they massage your shoulders in the middle of the night so you can go back to sleep and rub your feet on Thursday evenings while they’re watching Grey’s Anatomy with you, even though they claim to hate that show, along with Will and Grace and Modern Family and are almost as sad as you are that the latter two are over after this week. They, like you, are thanking the powers that be that Grey’s will be back next year because Supernatural will not and The Big Bang Theory is already gone, all of which means your favorite frigging night of TV is going to be shit starting in the fall and how would you face Thursdays without Meredith and the gang? I mean, life has already gotten more difficult because they took Frasier and Friends off Netflix so what am I supposed to fall asleep to? Do you know that Prince Charming purchased CBS all access just so I could put Frasier on when I need to (which is every night – don’t ask me why because I.do.not.know.), so I can slip off into dreamland somewhere in a half hour increment of the Crane boys’ shenanigans?
Prince Charming hikes with you, likes to cook, takes you to Pink Floyd and related occasions until you put your foot down and he takes #1 instead because #1 knows which songs were on Dark Side Of The Moon and the difference between the Australian and British tribute bands and which one is licensed to use Mr. Screen. Why David Gilmour and Roger Waters are frenemies, and though you’ve been told this stuff, you can only retain so much.
Prince Charming understands why you claim Elton John’s The Bitch Is Back as your theme song and why you will tell anyone who listens that the only man in the world you’d leave your husband for is Elton. Fully understanding which side Elton bats for and that he is currently married with children, nearly old enough to be your father, and, let’s face it, not as handsome as your current prince. Charming understands that Elton gets you and has since you were a child. Charming loves Elton for that fact alone.
Charming likes to go to outdoor RV sales. He likes to look at all of them. (I’m not kidding. All of them.) He wants to travel in one with you someday. Sometimes, he says, we’ll bring #1. Sometimes, he says, we’ll bring Mom and any of the #’s between 1 and 5, plus Mr. Smooshy-Kissy Cheeks. You nod and smile, visualizing your happy place, which is not trapped in a small house, barreling down the highway at 75 mph, with the people you raised to be strong and independent and who, when they all get together, are strong and independent in five different directions, plus Mom and the kid. It’s not long before a horrified expression takes over your face and Charming reads it correctly and suggests they all just “meet us at the beach.”
Charming gets you. Even better than Elton, though he hasn’t yet written that bazillion dollar selling song about it. Charming loves Greg Allman, Ellen DeGeneres, Moonshiners, the Yankees, your mom and your siblings in equal parts. His heart is open and he has your goddamn back.
Sometimes Charming says things like, “Who knows you better than you know yourself?” Sometimes you smile and say, “you, baby,” even though your feminist heart is rolling its collective eyes and your sarcastic side is throwing up. He doesn’t mean he owns you and you’re a good little girl that he knows inside and out. He means the two of you have been together a very long time and you’ve observed each other in your natural habitats and shit can be correctly predicted. And sometimes it’s sweet stuff. Like after a hard day’s work you like a drink and a foot rub. You know stuff about him too. He likes it when you scratch his back or rub his neck. His feet are extremely ticklish but he loves a good pedicure anyway. He hates it when you put your cold hands on his rib cage in the middle of the night and when you walk around the house while brushing your teeth.
Charming is not perfect.
Charming is a challenge and a project. You know. Just like me. We had a “discussion” one time and at one point he was apologizing for something he’d “discussed” loudly. I said, babe, let’s be honest. It’s a good thing we love each other enough to put up with the crap. Neither of us is low maintenance. Charming is my friend and lover and partner and the other half of me that I do. not. ever. contemplate being without. I mean, we both know neither of us is immortal and have touched briefly on what life might look like if one of us is left behind. Charming says he wouldn’t marry again because he’d never be able to find anyone to measure up to me and he’d simply live alone. I say, who in the hell would ever want to start over with another human and put the time in training them?
Same thing.
I have no advice on how one finds their Charming. Maybe look for the openness, the laughter, the kindness and the steadfastness. Love isn’t for cowards, nor is life, as just about everyone is finding out in these Covid-19 times. I don’t know what can be counted on anymore or what “normal” will look like when and if we find our way back to it. Even those of us who are relationship veterans are showing wear and tear as the ragged edges of quarantine life start to reveal themselves.
There are two enormous trees in my back yard. They shouldn’t be here. They’re definitely not indigenous to Arizona’s brutal climate. They live on and continue to grow by letting go of what they don’t need – as in branches that come down on windy days and during storms. They bend so they don’t break and sometimes they lean in to protect what they love. They do it by nature.
So does Charming. So do I.
Maybe it’s only in hindsight that we can even know we’ve found our Charming. Maybe it’s in the moment we realize that before we found a Charming, we were our own Charming.
We are.
That.
Charming.
Enough.
And in that moment, when we realize we are, indeed, and always, enough, perhaps we release our hammering of the lack of someone charming in our lives, and “Charming” shows up.
itsallinadaysinsanity 