I was once wooed by royalty. A prince caught my attention and promised me the world. He obviously knew the package that he wanted to deal with: mother of two, sleep deprived, and face resembling a teenager drowning in hormones. But, he was attracted to my personality! I’ve got that in spades, honey!
When I read his first letter, I knew he needed me. He was in a bind in his homeland of Nigeria, and he asked if he could entrust his millions of dollars to me. That’s basically saying you want me to have your babies forever and ever. He was serious about US. I gave it a few days. He sent more emails. He was adamant about our partnership for life, and I was ready to give up my daily routine of potty training, bus stop duty and slow cooker gourmet meals. The hum-drum life of a homemaker. One thing I know for sure: I was born to be a princess.
It had been weeks since our first interaction. I wanted to help him get OUR fortune in the states, and researched local Western Unions that I could hit up to complete the instructions he gave to me. I also checked for any nearby mansions that were up for sale. I might as well be proactive, right? If you’re going to be part of the royal court, you must be assertive.
Then it happened. My virtual world crumbled right under my cobalt blue desk chair. I recently went on a trip to the security office of an insurance company, where they told me the truth about my Nigerian Prince. Turns out, he betrayed me. He’s been sweet talking ladies all over the world. And he’s not even Nigerian! He’s most likely part of a European crime ring, ala Taken (or Taken 2 Electric Boogaloo). My heart was crushed. My chance for a royalty wedding? Incinerated.
Maybe it’s time to reply to the British Duke’s email. He seems like a nice guy.