He fucked her when I was in New York, and so I obviously wish I’d never gone, even though not every Princess gets to be a Parade Princess. If you’re Ariel or Jasmine, you’re sort of out, because everyone wants the classic girls, the Snow Whites and Cinderellas.
I’m a Cinderella and got Macy’s. She’s a Jasmine and stayed here. My Prince Charming fucked her on the living room floor and then in the shower. He washed her breasts with my loofah. After, she wore my robe, because we’re essentially the same size.
All of us, all the Princesses, are little. Short. I’m 5”1. She’s something similar. The Princes are taller, powerful-seeming and imposing. They’re there for the mothers, not the little girls. Women still stuck on a fantasy of being rescued and turned into something else by the implied promises of romantic love.
My Prince is just over six feet. When we started working together, I told him about riding my bike and playing guitar and hiking through the Everglades, and he said, “You’re different than the other Princesses.” One night I asked him to come upstairs to my apartment and he said, “There’s no Disney shit in here.”
“Why would there be?”
“All the other Princesses have, like, posters and crap everywhere.” That should have been a tip-off. All the other Princesses.
“I’m more of an outdoors girl, you know? I wasn’t really into that stuff growing up.”
“What were you into?”
“Drinking beer and making out,” and after that night, he was my boyfriend. You’re required to tell management if you date a coworker, but everyone encouraged us: Cinderella and Prince Charming. How cute.
He told me about her in the car, driving back from the airport. I told him about the roses in my hotel room and how cold it was and how we should look into getting different jobs, ones using our degrees, and moving to New York because it was amazing, and he said, “I fucked Jasmine.”
Jasmine’s real name is Maria and I think she’s bulimic. She has a dead tooth and you can see it when she yawns—which you’re not even supposed to do when you’re in character. She’s definitely not cut out to be a top Princess, or even a Belle or an Aurora, and I’m not saying that because she isn’t white. We’re just different types of girls: I’m a Cinderella, and she’s a cunt.
I told Prince Charming to get out of our apartment, and I got boxes from the garage and then locked myself in the bathroom until his things were packed and he was gone. I called work. I told them that New York was great, and I’d really like to travel more, because my Prince fucked another Princess and I think that if I have to work in the park around those two, Cinderella will probably punch Jasmine in the face.