Toads and Princes

He was tall and oh so handsome. His chiseled face could’ve been on the front of GQ. He was charismatic and knew what to say and when. He was a psych major who switched paths to Physical Therapy and transferred down to my home city from Rutgers, his 4th year now. I was a freshman who knew I wanted to be a nurse and that was about all I knew.

……………. I had been hanging on by a thread. If my high school counselor hadn't seen the light inside of me… my college applications never would have been filled-out, much less sent. My waitressing tips paid for the application fees. I was an honors and AP student who never took the AP exams to get the college credit. That was classic me… doing the work… rarely stopping to get the credit. Searching for happiness, all I really wanted to do was run away. I paid my own way to travel out-of-state to visit schools with a friend over my senior year spring-break . Then I applied to all out-of-state schools, determined to get out of my home state. With only one fall back/“just in case”-in-state university, I was going to prove to everyone that I could do it. I could take care of myself … I had been, for a long time.
Flying by the seat of my pants, the only adult overseer to my college application process was my guidance counselor and we missed the housing application deadline. Without on-campus housing, I had no place to go. Even private housing needed a parent’s co-sign… and that wasn’t going to happen. All I wanted was to have something to show for myself. The girl who rose from dysfunction and blossomed into a happy, successful, professional. A Cinderella story without the prince, just the success. That’s what I wanted. And yet here I was… still in my freaking home state!
Begrudgingly I accepted my mother’s ride to the in-state campus for a visit. All the work and money I’d spent getting accepted to out-of-state universities burned a hole inside me. This isn’t where I wanted to be. But it’s where I was…so I took it. I knew my major. I signed up for as many classes as I could physically attend- eighteen credits and I worked four jobs. If I wanted to live on campus, I’d have to pay for it, so I stayed home and commuted. I was focused and ready to finish, to get out on my own as soon as possible. ………………

So here I was, on campus and this senior god and I starting talking on our smoke break. I was in flip-flops, a tank top and baggy sports pants. Why was he talking to me? Is he flirting? I was used to having older friends, but not too many boyfriends. I was awkward in my adolescence and always the kid with less, in the affluent private high school I attended. Hard work always got me where I was, never status or money. But hard work doesn’t get you noticed in certain communities. I was never the girl who got noticed, or so I thought. So, I couldn’t believe it when he asked me out on a date.
He took me into the city and showed me a wonderful evening, fine dining and a happening club. I wore my own movie-star of a man on my arm and we shared a magical walk around the harbor by star-light. He continued to pursue me. He showed me how to dress, how to talk, how to be refined. While I resisted his efforts… silently, slowly, I listened. With him, I grew from a scrappy girl into a lady.
My prince charming however, turned out to be a toad – a possessive alcoholic who distracted me from my studies. When he got a DWI and totaled his car, I became his driver for the rest of the school year. When he finally got off probation and got a car 10 months later… he left me. And leaving me was the best thing he could’ve done.Becoming single again, allowed me to refocus on my studies and also encouraged me to continue growing up. All of the refining pressure I had resisted from him skyrocketed when he left me. I bought a new wardrobe and walked through the campus with my head held high, so that he could see what he let go. I finished the semester stronger than ever. He flunked out and moved back home to NJ… no closer to graduating. The following year I refused to date anyone and focused hard on my studies and working.

In my 3rd year, another model of a man took notice- twenty-two years old, six foot, blond and blued eyed, a professional body builder who owned his own home and made 80k working for the government. Working towards his eventual PhD… he was a breath of fresh air. A welcome change from my last entitled boyfriend who went nowhere in 5 years. This guy was motivated and successful. He taught me about life and he displayed the stability I was looking for. I was again surprised. I didn’t know my worth. Why was this man noticing me? And not only was he noticing me but he fell for me, hard. When I wanted to date casually, he insisted that he had to have me all to himself. Red flag?! I think so!
Just when I gave him my whole heart, he too turned out to be a toad. A pathological liar who fabricated his life stories and had affairs. During our last conversation he said he wanted to marry me. A week later he moved his ex-girlfriend back in, stopped answering my calls and never had the decency to speak with me again.

Like every girl, I wondered why this kept happening to me. A pawn in these guys games of life. I wanted stability and honesty. Still, I was anxious about getting away. Two more years to finish my degree and then I’d be off travel nursing, exploring the world ALONE.

One month after toad #2 left me empty-handed, an old friend asked me out for drinks. Eighteen years my senior, barely my height, an immigrant who spoke broken english and still lived in the same rental he had for fifteen years…he was everything I wasn’t looking for. On his way to ending his marriage with two little boys caught in the crossfire, a relationship with him was the last thing I imagined. I didn’t want a relationship with anyone! Hours passed by as we sat at the bar spilling our life stories. Two different countries, two different generations…and yet we shared so many common threads.
When we finally left, standing under the street lights of the dark, empty parking lot, he told me that he was in love with me. My head spun. Sputtering for words, I told him that I loved him too but that a relationship between us would never work. The age difference, his marriage, the kids…we were too far apart in life. And if by happenstance, we were able to make it work, my family would never accept it.
He didn’t take “No” for an answer. For weeks and months, he’d call and sit outside my house, asking me for a chance. I loved that man for his genuine heart but my head was looking for the college degree, the high paying job, the model to wear on my arm … a person with less baggage. My head was looking for what society had taught me I needed. But my heart was already rejected by those men and was being pulled closer and closer to this immigrant.

Weeks turned into months and months turned into years. My head wasn’t convinced of our possibility but my heart wanted no one else. More hard work and more drama than I care to divulge here… and that empty-handed, full hearted immigrant gave me the Cinderella ending that I was looking for.
Paying my rent so I could finish school, helping care for our daughter when our unexpected pregnancy complicated my final year of nursing school, encouraging me always, he became my rock. I finally got credit for all my hard work. And my family, who at first, lacked acceptance, as predicted, grew to adore him. He, with our baby daughter stood proud when I walked the stage and received my diploma. A happy, successful, professional I became. It was not easy and it was by no means a fairytale beginning. But I sure as hell found a fairytale ending….and it had a prince in it after all.

When people see what I have, they often ask, “How did you get that?”. And that is always a hard question for me to answer. I believe in critical thinking and using your head. But in my story, my head is what held me back. Or perhaps, it was the head society filled. My decisions for our relationship were calculated and reasonable; but they didn’t follow the empty promises and faulty rules that society has put into place. In many other cases, our story would not have ended well. Statistically, my relationship should not have made it. I believe in statistics and yet, we must be statistical outliers because fifteen years later we are still madly in love. Perhaps there’s more to the heart than we give it credit for. And at my age, I certainly know now, that society doesn’t have it all figured out.
I never made it to an out-of-state college. By the time I graduated with my BSN, I was a Momma and travel nursing was off the table. Still in my home state, my life was not what I had planned it to be 5 years earlier.

It was better.

Don’t get me wrong…when my friends were free and traveling the globe and I was at home with a baby, trying to make ends meet-sitting on a couch we rescued from the dump and food I bought with WIC… I envied the life others had. We hardly drove a pumpkin carriage and our home will never be a castle, but we are happy. Truth is, rice and beans tastes just fine with good company and filet mignon is never seasoned right when an arrogant asshole is sitting across from you. I never stopped loving my little family and we never stopped working hard. At twenty-five,  I was pregnant with our second child, bought our first home, and we ran off and got married.

Today, I still have days when I wonder why it seems like everyone else has a housekeeper and a nanny. We’re still not rich…with money that is. But in life and the pursuit of happiness…we are royalty. Making enough to be comfortable, we don’t travel abroad, we take road trips. We don’t shop at department stores, we thrift. Every night we eat dinner as a family and family game night is a regular thing.

Now I have my own little prince and princess and while I can’t change the pressures that society may place on them, I sure can guide them in their search for happiness. I’ll tell them not to worry about the money, the status, or the looks. If you can find an honest heart, hardworking hands and a tender soul…your life will come together like the wave of a magic wand. Boxes will one day turn to wooden tables and crates will become upholstered chairs. And two broken hearts CAN mend one another.

As I watch my peers now…still struggling to find a mate… still switching careers…still looking for happiness…I’m ok with the fact that I have less passport stamps than they do. I’m proud of my dedicated husband and the life we’ve built out of nothing. He came to me with nothing but a suitcase of clothes and I from a broken home with a broken heart. I accepted the proposal of the most unlikely of pursuers and it turned out to be the best decision of my life.
Every once in a while, those “toads” come up in conversation and my husband always says, “One day I’d like to see those guys…and if I did…I’d say, ‘thank you’, because if not for them, you never would’ve given me a chance.”

As cliché as it may sound, it really did take kissing those toads to lead me to my prince.

Whatever poison comes into my life, my husband is the antidote. Whatever challenges present themselves, he has the answers. He is the first face I kiss in the morning and the one I count down the hours of the day to see. He rescued me. And if you ask him what I’ve done for him, he’ll tell you I “saved his life”.

When we go out and I’m all dressed up, he jokes, “Ha! Everyone in this room is wondering how much I paid for you! You know, they think I have money.” And he sheepishly giggles about our modest means. Then I say, “But you’re still my King.”

I don’t wear glass slippers and I’ve yet to meet any fairy godmothers but I have what I always wanted …. I have happiness. And happiness is all I’ll ever really need.