A Totally True Story Because I Am Bad At Making $#*! Up

Cinderella met her prince at a ball. Most people these days meet on dating apps. People often ask me how I met The Man. This is said with the wistful tone of someone wondering if maybe, they, too, could meet a nice Italian that would pour them champagne and fly them around the world. If this is happens to be you, come closer. Let me tell you a story:

Once upon a time there was a girl, whom we will call Cinderella for convenience, born in a small village in Montana. There she was raised by a jolly family in humble beginnings, learning to chop wood and hunt and weed the garden. She read all the time because she wanted to learn everything. More than anything, she longed to see what lay beyond the little valley where she lived. So one day when she was finally old enough, her father took her to college in Seattle, left her with $20 for an umbrella and said, “Go conquer the world, Dear Daughter.”

She pocketed the $20 because an umbrella was an extravagance and diligently set off to collect degrees. She was the studious sort and eventually she was knighted as a doctor. When villagers were confused that she was both a woman and a doctor she explained, “It’s like a witch but without the wand and crystal ball.”

“Hmmm,” they said, suspiciously looking for the broom.

She worked hard but preferred to be high in the mountains. She loved to run fast and complete astounding feats of strength. She bought her own cottage and drove a practical carriage. Really, she was quite pleased with herself. She had a weakness for dating wizards that also liked to collect degrees, but so independent was she that none of these wizards had managed to work a spell on her.

Fast forward to not long ago and not far away, Cinderella was toiling away at a new job where she could work her magic from home. She spent all day stamping her approval on spells that other healers submitted to insurance until she realized she had not left her cottage in days and had forever after to go. Cinderella decided she needed to go out or get a cat. Unfortunately, she was allergic to cats.

So off she went to the local pub where, a brutish local with a 5-o’clock shadow kept her company. The Brut was pleased that the charming lady was such a good listener and practiced his monologue until, alas, he cried out, “Look, there is my friend, the Prince!”

The Prince came over and greeted the Brut and then turned to Cinderella. “I am Stefano of Italy.”

This strange new man said that he was a paleontologist that traveled the world in search of rare fossils and Cinderella did not believe him. Still, they struck up a conversation of obscure facts, like the linguistics of Spanish versus Italian. They discussed dinosaurs and the geology of Montana. They explained the historical importance of gin and tonics to the Brut. Cinderella blushed. She loved nothing more than a bouquet of useless information.

The Prince offered her his phone number and address on a scroll of receipt paper. “I will make you food from my native land,” he promised.

The next night, they dined on pasta and the Prince said he wanted to show her his castle. But Cinderella did not think that was a good idea. She was not interested in a relationship with anything more complex than a plant. Cinderella thanked him and left; it was 8 o’clock and she was turning into a pumpkin.

Off she went expecting to never hear from the Prince again. Cinderella did not believe in fairy tales full of serendipitous meetings with wealthy foreign princes. Besides, she did not need a prince. Cinderella was an ambitious woman who could save herself, thank you very much.

“Wait!” you say, “In the fairy tale, Cinderella loses her shoe!”

Hold on. We’re getting there.

The Prince was off to party with Armani in Venice and Cinderella returned to her toil. Finally when he returned from his faraway lands, he announced he had a gift for her. The box was big and brown and tied with a red ribbon. “You did not have a pair of nice shoes so I bought you some,” the Prince said proudly.

“But I have 600 pairs of running shoes at home. Only the very fastest! What could I possibly be missing?”

Inside were a pair of shiny black slippers with red bottoms. Since Cinderella grew up in the sticks, she had no idea that Red Bottom Shoes were as desirable as a glass slipper. Trying them on she imagined that they were just as uncomfortable as the fabled shoes.

“How am I to climb mountains or fight the patriarchy in these?” she asked.

“You don’t have to!”

“But I want to.”

“Oh.” The Prince seemed confused, then brightened. “I can buy you a nice castle!”

“But I have a cottage.”

“A sporty carriage?”

“I like my carriage. It tows my little hut to the mountains.”

“Very pretty jewelry?”

“It does not make me strong or smart.”

“Well, at least let me show you the world.”

Cinderella considered this. She did like to travel. Perhaps this Prince was offering something the wizards had not.

Because Cinderella knew her worth, she asked, “First class?”

“Always,” confirmed the Prince.

So she packed her bag, sipped her champagne and reclined her seat as they flew off into the sunset.

“So did they live happily ever after?” you ask.

It’s a true story, not a fairy tale, dear friend. This is not where the story ends but where it begins.