Don't let yourself be fooled: the biggest myth bourgeois ideology ever set into place is the so called love of your life. I believe it has kept women all over the western hemisphere within the past 200 years or so from being content and emotionally balanced, realistic and autonomous. It is utterly bewildering to me how well-educated, funny, mature, intelligent women turn into 7-year-old girls that wanna wear a pink princess dress and become Cinderella when it comes to talking about meeting the one. It seems to me that, when it comes to the mystical love of your life and - particularly - its disappointments, we haven't really moved on from the 19th century and Madame Bovary.
So listen gal: There just ain't gonna be anybody walking around with a glass shoe that fits your foot. You're always gonna be like Cinderella's sisters: cutting of your toe to fit the shoe and smiling through the tears the pain causes you. And the worst thing is that you are going to tell yourself that it is absolutely normal that shoe hurts you; nay, you're not even gonna notice the shoe hurts you. Or else, you're going to meet someone who doesn't really have a shoe at all, or only, say, an ugly old sneaker. So you're gonna spend your time thinking about this person out there that supposedly has the glass shoe- your glass shoe -, and how you were never a sneaker person anyway, and why should you spend the rest of your life with a Adidas sneaker when you could have a Gucci glass stiletto.
But honey, why don't you just fucking get out there and get the goddam shoe for yourself?
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