Of Donald and Disney
There was a time I truly believed that one day my prince charming would ride in on his white stallion and sweep me off my feet. We’d fall into a wondrous stupor of love and move into an enchanted castle with our own personal flying carpets and I would sing to little birds and mice (not the plague carrying kind – the cute, bonnet-wearing ones). Now, I think I’d just be grateful for a guy who didn’t try to grab me by my pussy. Because apparently that’s what things have come to. A world where the most powerful man’s dating advice to other men is to "grab 'em by the pussy".
I realise the Disney thing is totally ridiculous too, but in my defence, I was about 8 when I thought this. I’ve since released that many of the Disney princes were actually massive jerks. Aladdin was a self-centred, compulsive liar. The beast has some serious anger issues that have probably landed him a few AVOs in his time. And Snow White’s prince is just a weirdo (at best – at worst, a necrophiliac, which makes the fetish Cinderella’s prince has for feet look like child’s play).
Now, I’m not saying men have to be princes in armour out to rescue damsels in distress. (To me, both of those archetypes set off some pretty serious alarm bells.) But finding someone who is kind and caring, humble even – a trait I personally believe is wildly under-rated - has a curiosity for the world, an open and non-judgemental mind and a sense of humour. None of this should sound like a tall order in a partner (of either sex). But somehow it does.
I try not to get political or preachy with these blogs, really I do. A) Because lord knows there’s enough preachy posts already clogging up precious Bidden and Obama meme space on social media and B) because I’m 28 and what the fuck do I know about the world. I once baked an entire pot of wax to the microwave tray because I thought the instructions said 13 minutes. They said 3. Even today, I awkwardly thanked some random dude in the café for my meal because on first glance (without my glasses) I thought he worked there. He did not. I also recently discovered I’ve been mispronouncing the word ‘albeit’ my entire life (probably something I should have mastered by now given I make my living out of pronouncing shit for tv news).
But I seem to have strayed from the point. Much like Donald Trump strays from basic human decency. And the normal skin tone of a human being (he falls well and truly into pumpkin territory)
Anywho, few would argue a good man is easy to find. At least, when you’re older and your values have shifted from hot and ripped to kind and caring and from fully sick to funny and intelligent (I don’t actually know what ‘fully sick’ means, but I’m hoping you catch my drift.) But fuck me, best of luck to the future generations who will grow up thinking Trump's behaviour is totally acceptable – the pinnacle, even. This man who (as Seth Meyers so eloquently put it) “bragged about committing sexual assault, was accused by 12 women of committing sexual assault, said some of those women weren’t attractive enough for him to sexually assault them.”
How did we get here?
The only trouble I’m really having is deciding whether modern America more closely resembles George Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four, with its ‘doublethink’ and ‘alternative facts’ (no, sorry, ‘alternative facts’ belongs to the current Trump administration – my mistake). Or Animal Farm, with its little piggy who convinces everyone to revolt against the existing administration for a ‘more fair’ and ‘greater’ America (sorry, I mean farm) only to become more corrupt and tyrannical than anything that existed before.
Rant over. And thank you for your patience. Next blog, I promise more embarrassing anecdotes.