Before Tim and I got together, I constantly thought of different scenarios of how I’d meet my future boyfriend. I remember a few years ago, while walking through Golden Gate Park with my friend Monica, our conversation on our love lives (or lack thereof) led us to this subject.
Scenario number one for me was always this: We’d meet at a used bookstore. While browsing the fiction section, we both reach for the same one – Pale Fire by Vladmir Nabokov. He’d insist that I go ahead and take it, and I would insist he do the same. This would go back and forth while I felt my face grow warm and scarlet. And then I’d tell him that I actually already own a copy. He would ask me if it was any good, and then I’d tell him I don’t really know, because I bought it when I was a freshman in high school hoping to look smart by owning that book, but grew a bit bored while reading it, and that I want to eventually give it another chance. And he’d loff, not laugh, because he’d be British! Then he would ask me if I wanted to grab a cup of coffee and pastries at a nearby bakery, to which I would agree upon. Rather than coffee, I would drink tea because coffee, though delicious, gives me migraines, and I would struggle between getting a cookie, a morning bun, or macaroon (chocolate chip cookie always wins, BTW). And then we’d date for hella years, and then get married, and have dogs.
Scenario number two involved dogs as well. It’s quite simple: We’d both be walking in opposite directions at a park and our dogs would see one another from across the way and go ape shit, thus making each of us attempt to hold them back, but lose control and our dogs would collide, their leashes coiling around our legs tightly, and we’d tumble onto a soft patch of grass. Both of us would utter Oh my Gods! and I’m so sorrys! to one another and we’d scold our dogs to no avail. Obviously, after that we’d get married and he would write musical ditties and I would write stories, and then my schoolmate would come over and want to make a coat out of the puppies they were going to have. When telling Monica this, she said I watch way too many Disney movies. Also, I didn’t have a dog when I conjured this scenario, but once I got Rory, I thought, “OH MY GOD! My 101 Dalmatians fantasy can become a reality!”
So, yeah. I do watch a ridiculous amount of Disney movies. And I think those films may have played an integral role on the way I wanted things to play out in my own love life (which has been entirely fictional for the better half of my somewhat young life as I dated celebrities in my head).
For my first kiss, I wanted so badly for it to be just like the “Kiss The Girl” scene in The Little Mermaid, minus the cock-blocking eel henchmen. But what guy could possibly recreate a boat ride with coordinated fish spitting water (that’s doesn’t sound romantic) while swimming in a circle around our little vessel, while a musically inclined crustacean orchestrates a beautiful number urging him to smoosh his lips onto my lips in a romantical fashion? A Disney Imagineer, perhaps. But where am I going to meet one of those? And aren’t most of them way older than me (10 years was always my cutoff)? The closest thing I ever thought of getting to date someone who worked for Disney in a creative aspect was if I moved to Emeryville and met a Pixar animator at a coffee shop near the studio. However, I never moved to Emeryville and my first kiss happened in my ex boyfriend’s car, in front of my parents’ house while holding a box of tiramisu and he asked, “Do you wanna try?” I had no idea what he was talking about. It was terrible. D:<
And when I was still a wee lass, I assumed that if I lost a shoe, a handsome boy would find it and he’d bring it to me immediately and we’d fall in love and live happily ever after. I recall going to a wedding when I was about 5 or so, and I ran around the dance floor and pretended to lose my shoe. I one shoe’d it for a bit, but Prince Charming never came my way. Defeated, I retrieved my shoe on the dance floor and ate some cake.
Other things I thought when I was a kid was that my Soul Mate would come out of nowhere if I just sang to myself while alone (with the exception of animals) a la Snow White and Sleeping Beauty. Or if I just sang in general (Prince Eric loved him a siren). I never attempted this one. I thought it was something to do when I got older, I thought maybe my singing would get better. Once I got older I realized it was a stupid idea (and I can’t sing for shit — I fail as a Filipino and a Disney Princess). It’s scary if you think about it though, because in both movies, these girls are out by their lonesome, and then some guy they don’t know comes along and startles them. But it’s okay since they’re hot. I thought [still think] Prince Philip was the dreamiest of all the princes, but after watching the “Once Upon a Dream” scene again, I’m disturbed by how Aurora is genuinely freaked out by his sudden appearance and tries to get out of his grip, but he just grabs her hand again ’cause he thinks she’s smokin’. Creeper Prince Philip is a creeper!
If Quasimodo came out of his bell tower because he was drawn to your lovely singing, you’d be scared shitless. Don’t feel bad though, because I’d totally be scared too. Poor Quasi.
I’ve lived through more situations like those in Sara Bareilles songs (which are really effing sad, in case you’re not familiar) and the film (500) Days of Summer rather than having magical Disney moments where my love life is concerned, and though Tim and I just met through a mutual friend and were friends for 3 years, I feel that the evolution of our friendship is a damn fine story. I ended up with a pretty handsome, thoughtful, and hilarious dude (who is musically inclined like Roger Radcliffe from 101 Dalmatians minus the pipe habit, so suck it Phantom Lovers and Disney Princes!). 
