DAY 18.

We’ve been force-fed happily ever after.

From the minute we could walk, it was instilled in us that our life goal would be to find the Prince Charming. We scrutinized our feet, hoping the glass slipper would fit. Our mothers bought us things that were pink. They hoped we’d grow up to be intensely feminine. We were to be the babies they’d pictured as they ran their fingers down the list of popular girl names for the year 1988.

We imagined the large castles, the chance meetings, the star-lit skies and a full moon, the roses. We wanted Disney. We wanted romance. We wanted it all.

We waited, when we were younger.

We’d sit on our porch steps and stare down the roads of our neighborhoods. With each passing car, we held our breaths that one would turn into a horse-drawn carriage. We imagined what he’d look like. Tall, definitely. A smile full of straight teeth. His hair would be sculpted just so. He’d save us from peril. We were old enough to believe that dragons wouldn’t be swooping down on us anytime soon. But there were other dangers. He’d save us from being the last one picked at dodge-ball. He’d share his extra pudding cup on the back of the bus.

Most of us haven’t found our Prince Charming now. Those fantastical notions have been rubbed away by reality. The dashing man in the suit and tie in our business class may not be what he seems. We don’t trust those bright smiles anymore. We won’t follow when our prince tries to drunkenly lead us up the stairs. No castle awaits us.

We’ve read all of the magazines that tell us how to reel in these imaginary men. Some of us cut out articles to keep for later. Tips for how to do our makeup. A bonus list of how to please our men in sixty-five different ways. But there are always sixty-five diferent ways to please him with every issue. We don’t know how to keep up. There is too much to remember. We’ve lost sight of Prince Charming.

We sit at home some nights, nursing our broken hearts. Our magazines lie scattered around the floor. We’ve tried to do what they’ve told us. They guarantee that happy ending. But the question is still not answered: when will our fairy-tale really begin?