Kissing Frogs & Other Hazards: A Modern Fairy Tale
One woman's reflections on lessons learned from honoring her values, nurturing herself, and waiting for true love.
"There's nobody like him anywhere at all.” — Snow White
I’m no relationship expert. Being a woman of a certain age and recently married, I often confess to my friends that I’ve dated all of the seven dusty dwarfs: Drunkie, Dopey, Brokey, Low-key (gay), Cheaty, Meanie and Misogynistic.
It mattered not if I dated up or down, younger or older. When gentlemen with means approached me, they were usually slow to listen to what I thought and quick to tell me what they knew. So, I went in the other direction. There I met the agonizing artist, the chumps with no cheddar, and the dummies who didn’t want to do better.
Being from a small town in Tennessee, I was told to say “please” and “thank you”. I was brought up to expect the same. Men opened doors, tipped hats, smiled, and when they saw you, they always, always had a kind word to say. Usually something like “Hello Sunshine,” would just roll off their lips when they greeted you, and “You be good now,” would be their parting words when leaving the building. Be they young, old, with blue eyes, brown eyes or no eyes, the gentlemen where I’m from could teach a course on making a lady swoon with just a nod and a smile. Silly me, I presumed that as long as I lived in the South, chivalry (much like the sweltering heat and southern rock) would always be close company.
After finishing graduate school in 2001, I left the rolling hills of Tennessee for the opportunities of Atlanta, Georgia. I arrived expecting to find a little music, a dollop of sunshine, and a whole heap of chivalry. I was mistaken.
Chivalry in Atlanta wasn’t just dead. It had been run over, run through a grinder, pushed up against the wall, bullied, beaten, and run out of town. There were no tipped hats or Southern smiles. The words that fell off the lips of these lads were more like, “Hey you aren’t that cute, but I would still date you,” or “You are single because you have a master’s degree.” These are actual quotes. The few fellas who showed signs of promise were later found to be well-versed in mimicking whatever kindness I brought to the table, but only for a short time. You can only pretend not to be an alcoholic for so long before every occasion turns into a disaster. You can wear the mask of intelligence and financial stability until it slips off and reveals your ignorance and irresponsibility. Alas, there are also guys who profess attraction to ladies who may not be attracted to telling the truth about their true preference. And sadly, cheaters are only committed to being mean and/or misogynistic.
The fairy tales these single (and not-quite-so-single) chaps tell the ladies are lies weaved from deception and desire. Perhaps it’s for sport. Every lie is like an arrow in a quiver. Every tall tale is told to make themselves sleep better at night. Truth and fiction become intertwined from these masterful, manipulative storytellers. After a while, the lines become entertaining and so well-rehearsed that I doubt if even they believe them. I found Atlanta to be full of unsavory characters and despite my upbringing and good-natured heart, admittedly, even I fell prey to a lie being offered as the truth like a shiny apple peddled by a witch.
So, no, I’m no relationship expert and I don’t know how to make sense of the make-believe that is the Atlanta dating scene.
But … I do know something about holding out for what is right and right for you. I know about protecting your heart, guarding your body and #BeingYourOwnBoogie / #CreatingYourOwnLight (my tagline on living) when you’re enjoying life on that solo ride. I know when the relationship rollercoaster is built on lies and danger, you jump off! Save yourself and your sanity. There’s nothing, absolutely nothing, wrong with being solo if you’re at peace inside and mirroring your standards.
It didn’t take long until I stopped entertaining frogs and set aside poisoned apples. Soon thereafter, the toads stopped coming around, and I lived a fantastic life of my own making on purpose. No longer did I focus on the fairytale of a prince charming or a tan cowboy on a white horse. Instead, I focused on who I was and eventually met someone who was like me. Kind. Considerate. He was everything my inner child wanted and nothing that resembled the dusty dwarfs of my past.
Our paths crossed in a restaurant-by-day/jazz club-by-night owned and operated by a kind Korean man named Sam. Sam loved jazz, and I loved the jazz community (musicians and patrons), so it was only fitting that I worked the door every Thursday night at his establishment. One particularly busy night, a handsome man with a jawline that would put any male Disney character to shame strolled in wearing a dark trench coat, nicely pleated slacks and hard bottom shoes. He stood at the top of the staircase, scanned the room and floated down those steps as if on a magic carpet until he landed in front of me. Maintaining my composure, I greeted him with a warm smile and said, “Welcome to Brew and Bird. That will be five dollars, sir.” He responded with, “Gee, I hope I have it.” He then opened his wallet and provided the legal tender that allowed him entry into the club and later into my heart. His opening line wasn’t as dapper as he was, but I liked his boyish smile. I did not know that when he scanned the room, he was looking for a mutual redheaded friend of ours. I did not know that he stumbled into jazz as a way to experience music in a completely unrelated way to how he had experienced music in the past. I did not know that in four years we’d be standing in front of each other with Sam, the redhead, and 200 friends and family in attendance as we said our vows to each other.
I did know that since he was a “man in Atlanta” that automatically he was not to be trusted. They all weave stories, you know. Kevin, I soon learned, was not a story weaver. Kevin was a kind man from the Midwest who valued honesty and truth. His truth was that he had no desire to court anyone seriously at that time. He had experienced a recent breakup of no fault of his own and was not in a position to date seriously. My truth was that I would accept nothing less. So, after being properly introduced by our mutual friend that fateful evening, we remained fast friends until I realized that just because he was in Atlanta, it did not mean that he was of Atlanta. It was clear that we shared similar stories, values and backgrounds. He was charming, like the prince from “Cinderella,” kinder than the transformed beast from “Beauty and the Beast” and painfully funny like Robin Williams’s version of the genie in “Aladdin.”
My inner child fell in love with him long before I knew what was happening. Because she felt safe with him and he with her, my inner child and his were inseparable. His kindness and intentionality were unmatched. His commitment to showing me he was trustworthy was unwavering. He reconciled with his feelings on marriage and at his humble request (and in the midst of the global pandemic) our friendship became courtship. Being wary of anything too good to be true, I remained cautiously optimistic until finally, after a series of “non-date dates” and a host of questions during these “non-date dates”, I agreed to a proper relationship and soon thereafter, I consented to a lifetime of love.
I did not meet my heart’s companion until I was well, well-seasoned. Let’s just say that at my age, I couldn’t be cast as the young, tender Snow White in a community theater performance. I would more likely be asked to portray the stepmother with the sensational salt and pepper hair or even the fairy godmother with the reading glasses balancing carefully from the tip of her nose. Still, I waited. And while living my peaceful, vibrant life, I met my person and, to my surprise, he mirrored my values and proved to me that chivalry, like the Atlanta heat, is not dead after all. He’s not a cowboy or a prince, but he is priceless and generates a light of his own. Nice things like “Hello, beautiful,” and “You are so good to me,” roll off his lips on the regular. After vetting him thoroughly, I happily discovered that “There is nobody like him, not anywhere at all.” Now we’re writing our own story.
I'm no expert. Just food for thought: Decorate your life with beautiful experiences and set your table with the trappings of a woman well-loved, particularly self-loved. That should be the hope of our happily ever after.
The time it takes to meet your life partner will pass whether you meet him or not. You might as well make it a life with lots of stories to tell, a life better than anything Disney could ever dream up. Those should be the stories we read to our daughters and to ourselves.
Written by Charlette Clark, contributing author. Belle Curve Stories is brought to you by Belle Curve Ventures LLC.
Charlette Clark, in her 50s, resides in the Atlanta, Georgia, area with her husband, Kevin Wilson. She is passionate about environmental justice and works as an environmental consultant and project manager, helping clients assess and mitigate environmental risks for real estate transactions. Charlette enjoys jazz music, dancing, reading, and traveling and shares many of these interests with Kevin.
