I am going to marry an English man. He is going to come along on a white horse and sweep me off my feet to the sound of I’m A Believer (Italian version) playing in the background.
Call me completely idiotic, but I am a massive romantic and believer in soulmates/true love/prince charming/happily ever after. I get that for most people, it doesn’t happen like that, but I believe in the minority, and desperately want to be a part of it.
I went to see Letters To Juliet today, and it just made me want that fairytale happily ever after so badly. The whole concept of true love, like not the stupid ‘love’ all my classmates seem to be obsessed with, but real love, just gives me such hope. I know real life isn’t like the movies, and things just don’t happen like that, but I like to think that a…varient could happen to me.
Maybe I’m too obsessed with pop-culture, and because of it now have a stupid sense of reality imprinted in my mind, but it keeps me hopeful, and being hopeful leads to being happy, and what more could I want?
The other day on my formspring someone asked me how many guys I had kissed. When I said none, there was a minor uproar. How could I be sixteen and un-kissed?! (there are actually more of us than most people realise. We just tend not to flaunt it). But what I said on there, and what I’ll repeat here, is that I don’t want some random thing at a party. I don’t want to hook up with someone for the sake of hooking up with someone. I want it to have meaning. Maybe I’m an idiot, but I don’t want to regret it. This is much the same reason for why I’m waiting until I’m married before I have sex. I know we live in a culture where it’s the norm to have one night stands and lose your virginity at a young age, but I’ve seen way to many people want to take it back. Want a do over. At least if I wait until I’m married, I know someone cares enough about me to marry me, so it’s not going to be a regret. At the time, at least.
Most people tell me I’m going to end up disappointed, but I have this idea in my head of a massive fairy-tale wedding in a big church and, as I mentioned at the beginning, a handsome english aristocrat at the end of the aisle. If not him, then Nick Jonas or Conrad Hilton. You know, I’m not fussy or anything. I want an olden-day romance, with chivalry and picnics and nights lying under the stars just talking. I want to kiss at the top of a ferris-wheel, and to be proposed to somewhere totally cliched like on top of the eiffel tower. I want to be able to quote classic literature and sing lame songs with him. For him to have a lame sense of humour, and be into totally hot-nerd things like english comedies and video games. For him to love Harry Potter as much as I do, and be able to talk about it for ages with me. I’ll even forgive him if he’s a hufflepuff. I want a guy who accepts me for me, weird obsessions, secrets and all.
Maybe I’ll have to kiss (or not kiss, if you base it on my track record) a lot of frogs along the way, but I know my prince charming is out there. I will meet him one day, and even if he doesn’t meet all of my expectations (let’s face it, picky is probably a tame word to describe me right about now), I know it will still be awesome. Maybe I’ll find him tomorrow, or in a few months (French guys are hot), or maybe I’ll have to wait fifty years, like Claire in Letters to Juliet. I have no idea, but I do know he will be worth the wait.
Please tell me I’m not the only one with hopes as deranged as these.
frangipani princess xoxo