Monday, 23 April 2012

Damn Disney

I love Disney films. Some of my earliest memories are of watching Disney films or pretending to be a Disney princess. I am unbeaten at Disney trivial pursuit and don't ever ask me to to sing Disney songs when I have had a drink. There have been renditions of "Part of Your World" in front of Cafe Mambo in Ibiza and "We'll Have a Dalmation Plantation" to a rather shocked crowd in Zante. (I clearly have no shame.) In Disney films the rules are simple; there are heroes and villains but good always triumphs over evil and a moral lesson is always learned. More importantly the guy always gets the girl and they live happily ever after... And then there is reality.

As a child we expect our own lives to one day mirror the fairy tale ending Disney promised us. To be swept off our feet by a knight in shining armour. To be enveloped in a cloud of romance and have sweet nothings whispered in our ear. The reality is somewhat different but then again I'd be stupid to expect anything different - right? Should I be content with my "partner" washing the dishes without being asked as the high point of my romantic-life?

I've been thinking a lot recently about romance and men and womens' roles in the old relationship game. It seems that the most romantic thing a person can do nowadays is declare their love via a Facebook status. To expect anything more, as a woman, is to be called needy or hard-work. To dream of romance is to quite literally to live in a fantasy world. But if there's no butterflies then what's the point? I know butterflies don't last forever. And I know that eventually it's the simple, caring gestures that become the most appreciated; like running someone a bath or yes... washing the dishes but surely there's always room for romance? So yes Disney, sometimes I damn you for giving me such high expectations but I also thank you because I'd rather be a dreamer, rather live in my fantasy world, than give up on romance.

"So this is love. So this is what makes life Devine. " Cinderella.

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