On the Subject of Prissy Princesses

Sometimes I feel a bit angry or defeated. Even though I went to a wonderful school and had phenomenally amazing classmates, from time to time, there are a small handful of classmates who stick out in my mind. At times, I find I compare myself to that small handful of wide-eyed, pretty-faced, flimsy framed, high pitched, little flibbity girls that ended up with the career I wanted. Those same Prissy Princess Girls also ended up with gorgeous boyfriends and husbands. They have what I thought I wanted: the perfect career and the perfect man. So while I now strive to get my career where I want it to be, a Schmooie wanna-be called Shy Boy has been pursuing me. He’s cute, but not gorgeous on the outside, (not what I grew up picturing “gorgeous” to be). He is a good guy, a great guy actually, on the inside. Still, there have been times where after all these years, I feel I’m comparing myself to those Prissy Princess Girls I once knew. What’s the point in that? I have no idea. Shy Boy will coo and say the sweetest things to me, which only makes me giggle, blush, and look away. He wants to know what guy in the past hurt my self-esteem so badly. Truth is, it was no guy who did that to me. I’d never let an idiot guy hurt my opinion of myself. It was the same sex, those Prissy Princess females, which made (and make) me wonder if I’m doing something wrong.

The thing to remember is that a pretty package may have a nasty surprise. Those so called handsome guys the Prissy Princesses ended up with probably have a lot wrong with them to end up with such catty little women. But still, it infuriates me to no end that the Prissy Princesses always appear to win. Those Prissy Princesses got the career I wanted. Why shouldn’t they get the perfect Prince for their perfect Stepford lives? I guess I should keep in mind that the greatest talent of a Prissy Princess is in keeping up appearances. Those so called handsome guys might be real duds when not being told what to do by their Prissy Princesses. Shy Boy knows how to be romantic without being told. He goes out of his way to do something for me before I even ask. He knows how to touch my skin in a way that makes me happy. He’s thoughtful, considerate, and protective. He’s never demanding and he’s always sincere. He can say gooey things and mean it without wanting any “special favors” in return. On top of that, he’s a great kisser and he’s intelligent. He truly loves me and it shows in his kisses and in his actions. That should outweigh the negative things. Things such as: he’s starting to bald; he’s a bit cross eyed; he’s overly apologetic at times; he’s overly gentle to the point of infuriating; he’s very quiet unless the subject is music or movies; sometimes he acts like he’s not quite aware of the things around him when he’s walking down a street; he act and looks far more mature than his age; he has no music or artistic ability; he’s fun loving but sometimes I have to come up with the ideas first.

He’s not someone you’ll instantly look at and need to sit down. He’s not someone you’ll talk to for a few minutes and need to sit down. He’s not instantly charming physically or socially is what I mean to say. Indeed, he’s not the type of guy I ever pictured myself with.

Meanwhile, is it possible the the Stepford boyfriends and husbands of those Prissy Princesses look perfect on the outside and act perfect socially, but have no abilities at home to do the same? Shy Boy needs no coaxing or training on how to be a man towards me. I bet most of those good looking Stepford boyfriends and husbands don’t offer a foot rub or back rub out of the blue. They don’t come over and wrap their arms around their Prissy Princess while she’s doing her hair just because they treasure her. They don’t stop whatever it is that they’re doing just to gaze at their Prissy Princess. They don’t bother to call despite being exhausted from a long work day just to say hello. For all I know, they probably take their Prissy Princess for granted. And who could blame them? They were the ones idiotic enough to fall for the Prissy Princess. Perhaps, while those particular girls are busy sniveling along, seemingly getting their way in almost everything they do, it’s all an act. And you know what? Maybe I am the true Queen Bee.