The Fairytale

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When I was younger, I, like most little girls, believed that all fairytales consisted of a man, a woman and a wedding (not to mention ugly step sisters and the ability to converse with animals). Now I’m not so sure.

Although I am arguably one of the most capricious of girls who have never been sure whether the prospect of domesticity fills me with fear of fancy, I think I have finally come to the conclusion that it doesn’t really matter. Just the other day, when I was feeling like boys and babies were my destiny, I stumbled across an ex-lover. I say stumbled across, we arranged to meet. At 1am. (You’d think it were a booty call until I told you he’s happily been in a relationship with a girl for two years). But as I walked towards him and a bottle of red, I felt as though we were back in 2008 all over again. He reminded me of a time when I had finished school and was unbothered about working full time in a dead-end job and had travels and university to look forward to. Once we’d finished the bottle, we went for a stroll and ended up in a twenty-four hour restaurant where we gorged on expensive chocolate cake and sipped on wine until 4am: its nights like this that make one feel as though they’re in a black and white film. But it always makes me wonder why this can’t be my normality and trips to McDonalds be few and far between? Perhaps they are for some people, but not me. I felt like I was featuring in a fairytale for one night only.

But then I got to thinking; this isn’t the only time I’ve been swept off my feet. People have bought me the most beautiful pairs of shoes, surprise visits have been sprung on me at Christmas time, I’ve had candlelit suppers cooked for me, and have been, shall we say, attended to after too much tequila by someone I barely knew. I count each of these, and more, as moments that constitute chapters in my very own fairytale. A 21st century fairytale yes but a fairytale nonetheless.

Lots of people worry that I get too easily carried away with chasing the magic, but happiness is my heroin, and I guess they’re right. So I just smile, sing a song out of context and wait for my fairy god mother to bring me some Prada. I believe that every girl has a glass slipper and whether you find someone who fits into the one you find, or whether you find someone to slip it on for you, don’t be afraid of it shattering on your quest. Some of the biggest mistakes are the most beautiful. And sometimes people aren’t meant to find something that fits perfectly.

Although I haven’t quite worked out whether or not the end of my story will culminate in marriage and babies, as long as I have a few tales which start with that magical, ‘Once upon a time’, I’m sure I’ll live happily ever after.

The End.