Fuck Fairy Tale Romances – I Want Something Raw And Real
Give me a guy who's as fucked up as I am, so we can fumble around until we create our own version of "happily ever after."
As much as I liked reading about Ariel when I was little, and as much as I still like taking pictures with Cinderella at Disney World, I’m not interested in a love like they have. It’s too stale. Too predictable. Too boring. That’s why I don’t want a fairy tale romance. I want something raw and real.
I’m not looking for a prince.
I don’t want an elegant gentleman who’s always going to strut around in his suit and invite me to fancy balls. Give me a guy with flaws. Give me a guy who would rather crack open a cheap beer than order a glass of wine that’s worth more than my college tuition. Give me a guy who’s as fucked up as I am, so we can fumble around until we create our own version of “happily ever after.”
Perfect stories are perfectly boring.
Who wants to hear about the happy couple who met in elementary school, fell madly in love, and never strayed from each other? That’s boring as hell. I want to date the wrong men before I run into my future husband. I want to have ups and downs, and moments where I question whether I’m going to be alone forever. I want to fuck up a few times, so I can truly appreciate love once I find it. If I didn’t have to struggle to find my soulmate, would I even realize how lucky I was to have him?
I’m far from a princess.
In the stories, dashing young princes come along to rescue damsels from their miserable existence. Well, I’m no damsel. I’m an independent woman who’s capable of taking care of herself and getting shit done. I don’t need a guy to save me. I need a guy who’s willing to listen to me vent, will let me cry on his shoulder, and will take a step back while I save myself. If he doesn’t respect my independence, then he doesn’t respect me.
I’m not a chaste young lady.
As beautiful as those “first kiss” scenes in the movies are, where the man innocently pecks the woman at the end of a romantic night, those precious moments aren’t for me. I want a first kiss that’s filled with passion, excitement, and a little tongue. Then I want to take it one step further and test our chemistry in the bedroom. Mental attraction isn’t enough. I want to make sure we’re physically in tune, too. Sex might not matter in the storybooks, but it sure as hell matters to me.
Happily ever afters require hard work.
Fairy tales might have a conflict or two, but the couple always ends up living peacefully after the climax of the story. But let me tell you about real life: Fights happen, again and again and again. If they don’t, then your partner is either keeping everything locked up inside or they don’t care about you enough to get upset in the first place. Either way, it’s a bad sign. Real relationships require in-depth arguments that make you lose sleep at night and have make-up sex in the morning. It’s just the way it goes.
Romantic gestures don’t have to be huge.
I don’t need a boyfriend who throws around his money and buys me a castle in order to prove that he loves me. I’d rather have him show his affection in subtle ways. I want a man who brings home an extra Cinnabon for me whenever he stops at the mall. I want a man who leaves silly notes on the refrigerator about how I better not watch Game Of Thrones without him. I want a man who agrees to lose his dignity by dressing up in a couple’s costume for Halloween, because he knows it’ll make me happy. Those little things seem like pretty big things to me. 
