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For a long time I wanted to sue Walt Disney Films. Or at least, the ideal appealed to me after another particularly interesting episode of Ally Mc Beal.

After years of deep thought and reflection, I (judge and jury), had come to the apparently rational conclusion that Walt Disney; almost-synonym with family entertainment, is Guilty! (*Bells clang*)  Offences range from incessant lying to outrageous deception, inordinate deception, and excessive misinformation (P.S: I love adjectives). Aided by the big screen, and somewhere between Sleeping Beauty, Frog Prince, Cinderella, Beauty and the Beast, some irreparable damage has been done to my mind. Of course, fair is fair, I was planning to join the publishers of the Mills and Boons series, Harlequin Romance and Silhouette Desire (I think that covers it). Their crime relates back to my early teenage mind where, combined with peer pressure (everybody was reading it!), their ideals have been etched on my consciousness… bla bla bla

I, the “victim”, grew up earnestly believing and grooming self for the eventual meeting with Mr. Knight. At the ripe age of twelve, I knew what I wanted- the Mr. to my Mrs. I was ‘reasonable’ enough to admit he didn’t need to be perfect-close to it would have done nicely, thank you. My Mr. Close-to-Perfect-Knight would be tall, dark and RMD-handsome (hardly original, and of course, much before light skinned Ramsey Noah and handsomer Wentworth Miller). . Besides Mr. Knight’s tall-hood and jaw breaking beauty, he would be smart, love me and my heart will do the Formula One every time I “gazed” upon his (not-necessarily) blue eyes. My specs also included the lustful body to die for and enough financial muscle to buy me a cute white yacht (I didn’t even know how to row a canoe). Anyway, we would fall in love at first sight, and all the girls will be so jealous. He will be so besotted with my conceited self that he wont even notice if Angelina Jolie stripped and danced on her head to catch his eye, etc… Happily ever after… 

Life would be simple; ‘our love’ would survive and triumph against the odds, which of course included the wicked stepmother, gnomes, inflation, witches, Lagos traffic or whatever spells or curses anyone could conjure. 

My illusion of grandeur was neither strictly ingenious nor exclusive. I will stake my imitation Luis Vitton bag that most girls had their ‘ideal man’ cut and dried, painted according to specifications (after that MTN’s “oh Jerry” advert, we mildly adjusted- he didn’t need to be that tall).

We wanted the Cinderella story; everything- the right shoe size, bespoke dress, and happily ever afters. Naturally, we ignored the wicked sisters and their mother parts.

 

The moment of epiphany was usually one good fall (for the fortunate ones, two for me and the stubbornly optimistic of God’s children), flat on our heads and one little needle to burst our bubbles. We finally checked out the word ‘fiction’ in our dusty dictionaries and OMG! It didn’t include reality.

…And we have learnt well, that fluttering butterflies eventually tire out; that rumbling stomachs finally get still; that princes change to frogs or beasts (depends on how fast you see). We caught on that falling in love is no exception to Newton’s theory of gravity, and horrors of horrors, love just aint enough.

 

Although, Sleeping Beauty did not prepare us for where Mr. Close-to-Perfect-Knight goes to spin the same yarn to another princess, we have learnt to walk, chin up, with dignity we did not feel. 

Silhouette Desires forgot to let us in on the joys of waiting, or where we really should say “No”. It skipped telling us that knocking knees will steady if you sit long enough, and that fast beating hearts have to stabilize to prevent a stroke!

Nevertheless, we have discovered that where he leaves because we won’t play, we ought to be glad we got off lucky (even if our eyes tell another story and we sit there, clutching pieces of our hearts in both hands).

Time has taught us that ‘heartbreak” is really figurative- hearts are made of tissue not glass, and even where by some spoof of nature, they defy biology, the cliché about time and its healing and its healing wand works.

We have found that ‘love at first sight’ usually means “I want to have sex with you now” or “ I think I want to have sex with you now”: and which does little in keeping love’s embers glowing. We have learnt that kiss and make up will not remove the troubles before the fight even if we ignore it.

Kissing froogie to Prince may have worked for Swan Princess and tears for Rapunzel, but that piece of jewellery on his left finger will not change him. His wanderlust won’t disappear because he says some words in front of a priest. So we have learnt to look beyond his finer than Thierry Henry features or how could pass for (a baby-free) Tu face, what car he drives, or whether he can afford my superfluous yacht.

My major grouse is that all these stories did not say anything about real life issues; neither Cinderella nor Beauty had mothers-in-law who breathed over their necks and simply could not understand how their ‘poor son’ managed to get trapped by  ‘that witch’.

 No one cheats or gets fired from work; no one has to worry about tiresome and meddlesome parties.  No one worries about the kids’ school fees; no one gets broke or bored.

 And of course, no one doubts that love conquers all!

Yeah….  right.