Warts and all
Illustration by Killian Goodale-Porter.
Dylan Hostetter, Opinions and Humor Editor
I never have had any luck dating, though I am not exactly sure why. It might have something to do with the fact that I am extremely picky about men — at least that is the hypothesis of my roommate. She’s been in a loving relationship for the past two years, but what does she really know? I am not picky, I just know what I want.
If anything, it is the boys’ fault for not living up to my standards. None of them are what I am looking for. If I go out on a date, the last thing I want to hear is that the meal was “bussin’.” I do not want to give “big ups” to the chef. If the food was so “bussin’,” why couldn’t you pay the bill, Paul?
I know that I am not the first to arrive at the opinion that dating is horrible, but I really do think I have it the worst. As a young girl, I was obsessed with fairy tales, with the idea that one day my prince charming would ride up to me on a horse — the best I have gotten is a guy who owns a one-wheel.
The other day in the park, I was getting to the point of delusion — so much so I almost texted my ex-boyfriend. Thank goodness I stalked his Instagram first and saw he had recently gotten a pair of adult braces — that stopped me in my tracks. I really dodged a bullet there.
While I was scrolling, however, something life-changing happened — I heard a distant croak coming from the water fountain. I approached the noise, and to my surprise, found a small toad wearing an even smaller backward baseball cap.
My love of fairy tales rushed through my head — this had to be a “The Princess and the Frog” situation. Where else would a toad get a tiny backward baseball cap if he was not a cursed prince? This could be my chance.
I picked him up from his puddle and held him in my hands, his little warty face stared up at me longingly. I knew what I had to do, but I did not know if I had the power to do it. What if this was all my delusion and I was about to kiss some disgusting toad for nothing?
I laid one on him anyway and was thrown back by a burst of magic. I was ecstatic it worked, but what was left standing in front of me was not what I was expecting. It was the man of my dreams — if those dreams were nightmares.
It does not seem like a generous estimation — I did not actually count — to say that each wart on the toad translated to one on the face of my new prince. His forehead looked like a poorly asphalted road. His backward cap remained, though looked less cute resting on the frosted tips of his overly-moussed hair.
Standing at a solid 5 feet, 2 inches tall, it looked as if King Arthur’s sword had chopped him off at the knees. I am not a horrible person — I can look past someone’s physical appearance if their personality shines through — though in his case it was like looking for a ray of sunshine through a steel wall.
At least he was mostly dressed well. On his shoulders — below the puka shell necklace he wore around his neck — sat a regal coat with gold buttons. Under a polished leather belt were suede pants cuffed just above the ankle. On his feet were a pair of purple Yeezy foams. He told me to trust him that they were “super limited edition” and “really hard to find.”
After looking him up and down for a moment, I asked him his name and he replied: “The Prince of Aquitaine, Kyle Fisher.”
“More like the Prince of Accutane,” I said, but he did not get my joke.
He told me he was at my service, thanked me for rescuing him from his beastly prison and got down on one knee. I started to sweat a little — he did not give the best first impression after all, and I was not really sure if I wanted to marry him.
But, I said yes, of course — did you really think I would say no? He’s a prince!
My roommate is super jealous of my engagement, even though she won’t admit it. She keeps complaining that Kyle is hitting on her and that his breath smells like a “dental infection,” but he is my fiance so I look past those things. How many people can really say they have found their true love?
