Damn you Disney for my unrealistic expectation of Prince Charming!

I’ve got gadgets and gizmos a-plenty, I’ve got whozits and whatzits galore. You want thingamabobs? I’ve got twenty!

Before you break out into song and dance, let me ask you this question. Who was your favourite prince charming? Prince Adam (The Beast), Prince Charming, Prince Ali, Prince Derek, Prince Florian or Prince Eric *insert love heart eyes here*.

After watching the movie Bambi as a young child and bawling my eyes out uncontrollably, I vowed never to watch another Disney movie again. That was short lived as I found myself in love with Prince Eric. His handsome features, thick eyebrows, blue eyes, black hair, his affection towards Max the dog and don’t get me started on his tight blue jeggings and unbuttoned white polo shirt. I watched The Little Mermaid over and over hoping and wishing that one day, I would find my own Prince Eric. So at 8, I knew what kind of Prince Charming I wanted.

Well, close but no cigar (I’m sure Mr Peepaw won’t read this).

Disney released Beauty and the Beast and The Swan Princess and boy oh boy, my expectations for Prince Charming were as high as the pole vault crossbar and as I reflect, I was no Ariel, Jasmin or Cinderella.

I befriended other girls who also wanted a knight in shining armour to ride in on a horse, scoop them up (bonus points if it was done in front of friends) and ride off into the sunset to live happily ever after. No credit, police or relationship history checks needed. To this day, good romantic novels and movies make people emotional and extremely sentimental, I mean how else are they suppose to make money, right? The genre allows people to escape from reality for a split second to drift into fantasy land. I admit, I did when I watched The Notebook. It was Noah and Penelope not Noah and Allie.

We have been swooning over our dream boats for a long time. The generation before me had Fabio on the cover of books holding damsels in distress with his shirt unbuttoned  –  If you don’t know what I’m talking about google Judith French – Love Storm. Some of those raunchy romance covers had people leaving bookstores all flustered.

As I entered my 30’s reality kicked in and I recognised my expectations were unrealistic and that I wasn’t Tatiana Grigorieva. My knight drove a commodore with the yellow fuel light on and a water bottle in the boot just in case the engine overheated. My inner child prayed to God to at least grant me my sunset dream. Sadly, that prayer request was standard shipping not express and wasn’t received in time. Instead of my ride off into the sunset, I was riding off to the next best thing – the bright lights of the shell service station, sigh!

Now in my late 30’s, I admit I watched the WRONG prince when I was a child. I should’ve transitioned from Disney fairytales to Warner Bros DC Comics.

Here I was lusting after a prince in tight blue jeggings when I should’ve been focused on the prince riding a damn seahorse. Take me back to my 8 year old self, I have some re-assessing to do.

AQUAMAN!