Always a bridesmaid...

Once upon a time, there lived a prince. This prince was a sincere, genuine, funny, caring, and all-around good guy…but he was cursed. The curse worked thusly: our prince (let us call him Alexander) would meet another prince (or a pauper—he wasn’t a snob), someone who really knocked his socks off, but there was always an obstacle. Sometimes the other prince would not be into princes, only princesses. Sometimes the other prince would be into Alexander, but would soon prove himself to be entirely unsuitable. The worst, however, would be when the other prince would say that Alexander was “a very nice prince, but I’m just not into you in that way.” They would go on to say that they knew he would be a catch for someone, and while Alexander knew they meant well, hearing that only made it worse. As time went on, Alexander felt his opportunities slipping further and further away…



So…yeah. I’m not sure why, but it seems that lately I’m wonderful…but for someone else. I’m tired of being the friend, the secondary, supporting character in the rom-com/drama that is MY life. It’s ridiculous, and even more so, it’s discouraging. It effing sucks.

And yet I plaster a smile to my face and make myself available as a friend, because what else can you do? What freaking good is it to be “a catch” if no one’s interested in actually catching you? I give. The romantic, mushy, lovey-dovey side to me? It’s getting locked away. I’d rather have it collecting dust in a locked room than continually getting chipped away at by everyday life.
 

And he lived happily ever after...