Take Me To Prince William!

5 Dec

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Last night I read a little essay about my royal family obsession for Pepperdine’s Fall Literary Arts Festival.  I wore my replica royal engagement ring, and spoke through my Kate Middleton mask, and overall I think people only lost 80% respect for me.

I thought I would share it here, because this is mah blag or whatever.

I don’t know.  I’m tired.

***

When I was a young girl, my mother used to take my family to the Las Vegas library.  It was a new library, at the time, one of those that the city had really gone all out with. It had two stories and oodles of books and a great big yellow slide into the children’s section that made everything seem so much more magical and fun.

It’s funny how a yellow slide can do that.

On family library days, my siblings and I were given free reign.  We could read and do whatever we liked for several hours as long as we weren’t causing any trouble.  For some of my siblings, these library days were painful, long events that consisted mainly of the big yellow slide over and over again.

For me, these library days were Prince William.

My super-practical mother surely wouldn’t have approved if she had had known that as soon as I was alone, I would sneak into the teen section and grab every book on the royal family I could get my 8-year-old hands on.  Giddy, I would curl up in a corner, and read the memoirs of Diana’s personal assistant to my romantic heart’s content.

My infatuation with Prince William soon became one of my best-known personality traits.  I spent time in middle school drawing the country of England.  I memorized the royal family tree.  My heart was broken when William started dating Kate, restored again when they split, and broken further, and perhaps beyond repair when they got back together for good.

The day William and Kate’s royal engagement was announced, people I hadn’t seen or heard from in years reached out via text, Facebook, and personal phone calls to see how I holding up.

I assured everyone I would live, and then silently transferred my deep and abiding love to Prince Harry, because to this day I believe the royal family needs a slightly manic brunette with a penchant for Taco Bell nacho cheese in their lives.

By the time I got to high school, my royal obsession was pretty well known.  In Political Science when we studied the British government, every time the royal family was mentioned I would giggle and squeal “Prince William” and the girls in my class would follow suit.  This became such a regular thing that any time England was mentioned, all of the boys in class let out audible groans.  Their complaining only fueled our estrogen fire though, because this was high school, and in high school when you want to get the attention of the dreamboat in Political Science you squeal about Prince William.

I’ve always been such a delightful girl.

Perhaps the most telling bit of my royal obsession came when I was asked to my senior prom.  The boy who asked me drew me a large sketchbook, that ended with a blank page that said, “Now draw me a prom date.”  This sketchbook started with a drawing of me, then included a drawing of me with a dragon, and culminated in a picture of me riding the dragon with my fist in the air while I said, “Take me to Prince William!”

I’ll let that soak in for a minute.

When I was 23 years old, my royal obsession reached the only place it could go.  I boarded a plane to London with a working  visa in hand, ready to face my destiny and ready to pretend that Prince Harry was always my first choice, even back in his awkward teenage years, when the entire world was team William The Abercrombie Model.

My year in Great Britain was a lot of things, but sadly, it was not a lot of royal things.  I did see Kate and William a few times, out and about on royal duties, and I did stand in the crowd at Buckingham Palace the day of The Great Wedding, but, alas, there was no dragon and, alas, no one took me to Prince William.

The 8-year-old girl in me is still a little bit sad about this.

And so, in case you weren’t convinced I’m an absolute nut job, and in case you want a further reason to stop our friendship, I will now put on my replica Diana engagement ring, don my Kate Middleton mask, and with only 20% embarrassment, present to you, 25 signs you are obsessed with the royal family.

Prince Harry, be still my beating heart.

25 Signs You Are Obsessed With The Royal Family.

 

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