I wonder how many of us young women realize what’s truly in our hearts. I know I don’t. I’ve been faced with the facts, with the literature, and I still don’t quite believe it. But my heart… my heart is screaming, sobbing, begging for me to believe.
You see, I want desperately to be the princess in a fairy tale.
I want the prince who instantly falls madly in love with me, not just for my beauty but because of something deeper.
I want the prince who fights dragons and slays witches and battles evil enchantments to rescue me.
I want to be the belle of the ball, swept off my feet and twirling the night away.
I want to be the princess.
I am willing to do anything for the facade of the idea, too. Judging from my news feed, so do many of you. My heart cries out to be sought after, to be wanted above all else. And it isn’t a foolish, silly little girl dream, like we’ve convinced ourselves. It’s something placed within each of us. We are the yin to a man’s yang. They need a princess to rescue, a princess to have an adventure for, to protect, to live for.
Most of us, though, probably aren’t living a fairy tale.
I wanted desperately to be seen.
I wanted to be asked to dance at homecoming.
I wanted to be chosen out of the crowd.
I wanted to have a romantic encounter.
I wanted flowers and a sweet walk down a Christmas light-ridden street.
I wanted to be cherished and protected and delighted in.
We are told, though, that those are silly ideas. Only little girls play dress up. Real women survive on their own. We put on our “big girl panties” and take on the world. We understand that romance is dead and that sometimes you just get what you get. That pizza and a beer on your pee-smelling couch while the littles try to go to sleep is the height of romance. That ramen noodles on your dorm bed at 3 in the morning is true sweetness. That his doing the dishes is prince charming material. And don’t get me wrong, I love each of those moments just as much as the next girl. But deep down, I don’t believe that that’s all there is.
From my news feed, neither do you.
If we believed that was all, we wouldn’t…
Dress up in our most flattering outfits for a night on the town.
Learn how to do facial contouring or cat eyes with liquid eyeliner.
Listen to “Bleeding Love” and “Wrecking Ball” on repeat.
Search for “the One.”
Give ourselves to our men in the hopes of keeping them.
The truth is, deep down, we know that we are supposed to be the princess. It’s why we gravitate to princess and romance and rom com movies. It’s why, as we grow older and more jaded, we start to tear down the movies we once loved. Life tries to tell us that romance doesn’t exist, and our tiara is nothing more than a little girl’s costume piece.
But I’m learning something. Slowly. Oooooh, so slowly. My mind doesn’t want to believe it, because it will hurt so badly to be disappointed again.
I’m learning that I am a Princess. And nothing here on Earth will ever fully satisfy my desires to be adored, but my husband’s love can come close. IF I let him.
If I am to be a princess, I have to start living like one. I have to act like someone worth saving, rather than like the maid who hides in the corner. And I have to start treating my man like a prince who will rescue me. I get tired of books that say things like, “God is enough. He will supply everything you desire.” Yes. He will. But he doesn’t expect me to do it on my own. There is a reason that marriage is lifted up in the Bible, and it’s not just for a future generation.
God shows his perfect love and desire and delight in his princess through the shadow of the man made in his image.
You see, I am the princess in a fairy tale.
I have the prince who instantly fell madly in love with me, not just for my beauty but because of something deeper.
I have the prince who fights dragons and slays witches and battles evil enchantments to rescue me.
I can be the belle of the ball, swept off my feet and twirling the night away.
I am to be the princess.