A few years ago, back when I was in college, I was with two girl friends and we were in this posh cafe talking about the sweet story of this friend of a friend’s fulfilled dreams of finally meeting her Prince Charming.  "Oh, I wonder when my Prince Charming would ever come? I imagine him stooping down his white Arabian horse to catch me and save me from all these heartaches," my friend said dreamily.  A little girl not more that ten at least, turned to face us from the table they were occupying with what I think was her nanny.  In that small little girl’s voice, and in the unblemished knowledge of youth she said "Why wait for your Prince Charming?  Why not just grab yourself a fine white horse and look for him?"   

Brat.  We thought.

But now I realized that she does have a point.  I am turning 23 this year and has never been in any relationship that actually lasted a year.  I am not getting any younger, and I couldn’t always start at level one.  And if Prince Charming couldn’t be charmed out of the wormhole he’s in then I have to dig him out of there.

However, I’ve also realized that I am not exactly the "Beautiful Princess" in the story.  That I am just an ugly duckling.  Also, because of the example of love I’ve witnessed in my lifetime, primarily from my parents, that I am this brazen playmate carrying the cold wretched heart of the Ice Queen.  Now I ask myself, have I ever been really in love?  Infatuation that somehow turned into an obsession but not love. The Light of Verona is my obsession. Love? I’m afraid love eludes me.

So here am I searching for Prince Charming the way I have learned how to.

What to do, if I find myself nearing 30s without having met my Prince?  Then I must be happy with my lot as a spinster then.    Sad thought, but realistic enough ne?