“Beauty and The Beast” came on TV here in London this past Sunday night, and I stopped the (digital) presses to watch. I had to — it’s my all-time favorite cartoon. Ever. In life. There will never be another. (“Brave” is a close second, though.)
I love that cartoon because Belle (no matter how basic and perfect I think she may be) had it all — a father that absolutely doted on her (yup, I’ve got daddy issues), a big, strapping, burly admirer, and another big ass rich loverboy — or lover-beast, I should say. Why, oh, why can’t I be Belle? I can’t help but wonder what life would be like with men fawning all over me.
Don’t mistake, I get way more than my fair share of male attention (and it can be annoying and uncomfortable at times), but none of it matters to me because it isn’t from the one person I actually want annoying attention from.
I’m talking about The Boy. He’s British, and quite quintessentially so. (If you’ve ever dated a English dude, you’ll fully understand what that means.) On one hand, he’s absolutely perfect for me. We’re both part-time DJs. We have the same dry wit and deadpan sense of humor. We’re both O-B-S-E-S-S-E-D with Ron Swanson, Jean-Ralphio and Tom Haverford. We’re a match made in heaven, right? Perhaps.
Or maybe not. On the other hand, he’s perfectly nice to me, but he isn’t overly warm and friendly and romantic. We’re not at all affectionate unless we’re, you know, being affectionate. And I know he likes me, but I don’treally know if he likes me. (Like, likes me, likes me.) I think it’s because he’s cold and reserved by nature, coupled with the fact that I have yet to see a grand sweeping gesture or declaration of his undying love for me. (We’ve been dating on and off for the better part of 4 years. We’re back on again. Today. Not sure what’s going to happen tomorrow.) This bothers me tremendously — if I were a Disney heroine, I’d have all of this and so much more.
See, Gaston juggled eggs for Belle — then ate them. All of them. Pure pimp shit. (And his chin was straight swaggy.) The Beast gave Belle a super nice ass place to stay (rent-free!) with a library full of books. Snow White had seven dwarves at her beck and call. Dimitri traveled across Europe to reunite Anastasia with her grandmother. Prince Charming searched high and low to return Cinderella’s one-of-a-kind crystal slipper. See where I’m going here?
With that said, Disney has served up a fucked-up Prince or two, too, as I was reminded by my BFF DMW. FYI, these are her words, not mine:
“Most Disney Princes fucking suck. Aladdin was a thief. And homeboy from ‘Tangled’ wanted to rob the Princess of her crown, and she ended up marrying that deadbeat and moving him into her castle! Motherfuck all of that shit. That’s like me getting robbed and then catching feelings for the robber and moving him into the exact house he robbed. That’d be ILL ADVISED, but if you have a strong ass chin and sing me a damn song it’s OK? Bullshit. Beast was a fucking monster — why we gotta fuck monsters and kiss frogs? Fairytales teach us that if we just endure the negative shit we’ll be rewarded in the end, but real life teaches us that that shit’s not always true. Actually, it’s NEVER true. But you keep dreaming.”
Duly noted, DMW. Here’s the thing: I’ve always been told that when a man likes you, you don’t have to guess — you know it because he goes out of his way to show it so that there’s no question about it. But then again, I’ve also heard this: Just because a man doesn’t love you the way you want him to, doesn’t mean that he doesn’t love you with everything that he has. (Feel free to use that one.)
Am I alone here? Is wanting the Disney-dating fairytale asking a bit too much? And while you’re at it, tell me which Disney hero is your favorite! Just so you know, Gaston is completely off-fucking-limits.