Prince Charming Hits the Dirt

July, 1976

He got out of the car and walked to the water's edge. He carried an air of arrogance or was it just self-confidence? Whatever it was, I didn't like it. He was too forward, too familiar, too soon. "Good afternoon. How's the water?" was what he said, but what I heard was, "Hi there. I'm here to pick up a chick, so which one of you lucky ladies is it gonna be?" I turned my head away from him and willed him to go away.

It was July, 1976, and I had just moved out of my parents' home and into an apartment with my friend, Lisa. I had recently returned from a backpack trip to Europe where I'd gone to run away from a broken heart. It didn't work, because everywhere I went, there I was. I couldn't outrun myself.

"Perfect day for getting some rays," he said to Lisa because I had slipped my arms down under my raft, and I was ever-so-slowly paddling away from the intrusion into my peaceful float on our apartment's lake. The man and Lisa talked for about fifteen minutes, and at one point I turned my raft around and with my head pointed in one direction but my eyes (under my sunglasses) pointed in another, I got a good look at the stranger.

He was a good-looking man: Dark brown curly hair, big brown eyes, tanned skin, and slender. He reminded me of the comedian Billy Crystal with his animation, energy, fast talking, and attempts to entertain us (Lisa) with humor. His laughter carried across the lake to where I had paddled away and he annoyed me. Who did he think he was just coming up to us like that? The man I left behind in southern Indiana--the only man I could ever love in this lifetime--would never, ever do that. The stark comparison between the two men made me long for my fiancé, I mean ex-fiancé, even more.

"Just go away," I mumbled to myself and paddled to the middle of the lake.

July, 1996   Twenty Years Later

Prince Charming fell off his white stallion and hit the dirt, and I was now officially done with men.  It was the summer of 1996 when I discovered that the man I had been dating for four years was unfaithful and had been continuously for four years. From the beginning of our relationship to the very end, he had been doing the nasty-nasty with other women.

"That's it!" I cried on the phone to my sister, Lynnette. "I'm done!" She was the first person I always called whenever "the prince at the moment" stumbled and fell, showing me that once again I was wrong about my man. She would say things like "He'll be sorry. He'll never find anyone as wonderful as you." and "You were too good for him; he's a loser," and "He's out there. Your prince is waiting for you; don't give up hope."

I wanted to believe my sister. My prince was out there looking for me, but how many frogs dressed up like princes did I have to kiss before finding him? What was I doing wrong? Whatever it was, I kept doing it over and over again. Six times now. Six attempts to find happily-ever-after and all ended with a broken heart: mine.

Back to July, 1976. for a minute or however long it takes you to read the following three paragraphs.

Remember the man standing at the edge of the water back in 1976? His name was Tom. I wanted Tom to get back in his car and go away. He did get back in his car, but he didn't go away. He lived in an apartment across the lake from me, and wherever I went, there he was: Pool? Yep! Jogging? Yep! Working? He even showed up unexpectedly at my office to take me to lunch. My boss didn't like him: too forward, too familiar, too soon.

Tom didn't fit the profile I had in mind for my Prince Charming. He wasn't reserved or aloof or distant or controlling or mysterious. But he was easy going and funny and smart and honest and real. There were no mysteries about him; what you saw was exactly what you got. There was no place inside my fantasy world for Tom--a place I had lived since childhood where men had been appointed supreme rulers of their fiefdoms. The man would chose a woman and, if that woman worked hard to earn his love and if he deemed her worthy, he would protect her and love her forever.

Tom was not interested in being the ruler of a fiefdom. He didn't want to control me or change me. He liked me just as I was, and we became good friends. I didn't have to work hard to earn his respect and affection, so therefore he was no challenge; he wasn't the man for me. But we did see each other on and off for two years before he got a job in Florida and moved away in 1978. After he left, I continued my search for a prince.

Fast forward again to July, 1996

Tom was calling from Florida.  "I'm done with men!" I told him. "Another prince has hit the dirt." He wanted to know if I would consider reconsidering my position on that and invited me to come see him in Ft. Lauderdale. I did accept his invitation and...

2015

Nineteen years later, I am with the man I needed and not the man I wanted. The question I had asked myself years before "What was I doing wrong?" has been, years later, answered. What I wanted was not good for me. What I needed was. What I was doing wrong was believing the lies. My fantasy world--the one that began with the fairy tales my aunt read to me as a child--influenced my thinking and dictated my actions. Like a tape stuck on the same song and playing over and over, I could only see myself as a demure helpless maiden waiting to be rescued by a prince sitting on a big white stallion. Without him I had no worth, no value. Yet, in reality, I had a college degree, a good job, I owned a home, and I was not only capable of taking care of myself but, as a single parent, my child as well.

As I sit here typing this post, I think about how many times I thought about breaking up with Tom after we reconnected in 1996. He was 100% into me. There was no challenge, and because of that, I wasn't sure he was the man for me. He wasn't reserved or aloof or distant or controlling or mysterious. For years I had worked so hard to earn the love of my "prince at the moment," but with Tom I didn't have to earn his love. He gave it to me freely and without conditions. I was free to be me. I have to say that again and in all caps because that is so important...FREE TO BE ME!

On June 3rd Tom and I will celebrate thirteen years of marriage. I am so, so glad I broke free of the lies, the fantasies, the illusions about what love is. Tom is not a prince or a knight in shining armor. He is simply a very good man with integrity and intelligence and good character and a great sense of humor and best of all he adores me. Love can't get much better than that.