Every night before bed, I read with my daughters.
My youngest daughter, Ruby is obsessed with fairy tales—Snow White, Cinderella and Rapunzel are some of her favorites.
I recognize the sparkle of trusting innocence in Ruby’s eyes every time I finish one of the stories—the same look of a child who thinks Santa Claus is climbing down the chimney.
She believes in the happily ever after, in Prince Charming—as though, life is the last page of the book, paused in time, eternal, untainted happiness surrounded by bunnies, deer, birds and flowers.
There comes a time, when every child discovers Santa Claus is not real, and every girl learns neither is Prince Charming.
We come to understand through our experiences that life is not a fairy tale; it is a tale.
It is hope in the happily ever after that keeps us open to loving and willing to be loved.
Love comes in all forms. Each love story is a classic, because love is love—once it is acknowledged, it never goes away, even if the relationship does.
One day, Ruby will know this too. It’s not my place to tell her how it ends (or begins); she will create her own tale in time.
For all of the grown up boys and girls, here’s a real love story. Oh, and don’t worry, there’s no fucking prince charming in this one—just a guy and girl and some serious love.
I kinda like you—Kiss me.
I really like you—Fuck me.
I love you—Love me.
Love me—Leave me.
Leave me—I miss you.
Miss me—Forget you.
Shit, I still kinda like you—Stay.
Kiss me, fuck me, love me.