Once Upon a Time in the Land of Laundry: Why Prince Charming Should Take Out the Trash
Hold onto your tiaras, folks, because it’s time we throw a literary tantrum and ban all those fairy tale books that feature a distressed princess waiting for her Prince Charming! Yes, I said it—let's toss them into the bonfire of outdated ideas and watch the flames dance like they’re auditioning for another one of those awful reality shows about bad relationships. Because let’s be honest, these tales are like the original influencers, brainwashing us into thinking that love comes with a side of happily-ever-after and a royal carriage.
Right now, therapists are knee-deep in appointment requests, like the world’s worst game of musical chairs, with clients trying to figure out just what went wrong when their “Prince” leaves a trail of dirty socks that could rival a laundry explosion. I mean, come on! Prince Charming doesn’t leave his underpants strewn about like confetti at a disaster party, nor does he have to deal with the porcelain throne (I’m surprised this term wasn’t coined in these books. Boy did they miss their golden oppurtunity). Nope, he doesn’t even need to sit down—he’s too busy being a figment of our collective imagination, crafted to fuel the billion-dollar wedding industry like a fairy tale on steroids.
If Prince Charming were real, he’d be the ultimate hustler, raking in commissions on every shattered heart and broken dream. Move over, Elon Musk—there’s a new player in town, and he’s on the Forbes list for most delusional expectations. Everyone wants to escape to Fairyland, while the rest of us are just trying to navigate the absurdity of adulting on Earth. Who needs a rocket ship when you can have a fairy tale that promises perfect love and a matching set of glass slippers?
Let’s face it: we’ve all been duped into believing this mythical beast exists. "Oh, my Prince Charming is out there!" we proclaim, clutching our coffee cups while swiping left and right like we’re trying to find a soulmate among the vegetable aisle. When we think we've found him and realize he’s just another pumpkin in disguise, we blame ourselves.
This whole scenario, fed to us like candy when our brains were still soggy sponges, is absolute nonsense. I’m furious and feeling like I’ve been played! Thanks a lot, fairy tales, for distorting my idea of love into a rescue mission. The real drama? The fear of being alone, with no charming prince to swoop in and save the day. Where’s the book that teaches kids about self-sufficiency and the joy of being single, solo, and au dente?
Honestly, it’s a travesty that we read these stories without a giant warning label plastered on the cover: “THIS IS NEVER GOING TO HAPPEN.” And let’s throw in a disclaimer: “Welcome to the land of shattered dreams—we don’t serve fairy tales here, and we’re not responsible for any emotional wreckage.”
So here’s to breaking the spell, raising our coffee mugs, and saying, “No more!” Because the only thing we need saving from is the idea that true love looks like a fairy tale—when, in truth, it’s more like finding someone who can tolerate our Netflix binge habits without needing their own magic wand. Cheers!
