'Tis the night of my father's banquet, or in his words, "A royal celebration for all to see." Twas the most dreadful night of them all, for this night, I was to find, by force not of my own hand, my bride to be. All of the king's horses and all of the king's men were eating, drinking, dancing, laughing (yeah, the horses too, we had a merry kingdom)....Ugh, look at them, so full of glee. All of the servants, all of the commoners were just falling over themselves to express their happiness to me. The royal palace was lavishly decorated; the royal orchestra played a heavenly tune.

What was missing from the picture that I just described was a lovely woman sitting in the gazebo staring at the moon. Wearing a gown that's luxuriously laid out with shining diamonds and glittering pearls, that accentuates the beauty of her face and eyes, none found any prettier in the entire world. Possessing a sensuous body as well, curves in all of the right places. Making that man who marries her, the luckiest man in the land, her superior intellect he adores, her deep passion, he embraces. With conversation that flows be it cultural, political, or in jest. All of these qualities rolled up in one woman...simply, the best. Exuding confidence and sexuality, posing in an Amazon's stance. Making her man drop everything that he is working on at the moment, with a simple, little glance. Alas, I fear that my fantasies must dissipate; my hope and dreams of finding that right bride here tonight must go. The choices that my father "hand picked" coupled with the ones that crawled from the woodwork reminds one not of a banquet, but a circus show. Look at these three women, sisters no doubt; favoring smelly farm animals, the eldest grows a little mustache under her snout.

As I look over my "choices" I ask myself, "What the fuck?" While standing in front of one who looks as if she can strip bark off a tree with her teeth, and she is next to one who looks like a deranged duck. I am supposed to be regal, showing anticipation in my face. The queen, my mother, is laughing at my potential fiancees, tell me, where is her grace? Just as I was about to leap off the terrace to escape my impending doom, over my shoulder I glance at sheer radiance just stepping into the room. With one leg dangling over the edge, my escape plan had to be cut short. "What the hell is she doing here?" The one with the mustache snorts. (As if she had a chance).

By that time, it seemed as if everything and everybody got quiet as I walk up to her and say, "Good evening my dear, How do you do?"

She answers coyly, "I am fine my Prince," and she curtsies, inside I scream, "Woohoooo!!!"

The night afterwards was exquisite, every ounce of attention that I possessed, I spent it all on her. The next moment is kind of hazy, things went fast, and all was a blur. With her hand in mine I hear the clock strike twelve midnight, in my mind we are at the alter and she is just about to say, "I do."

When I snap back to reality on the floor in front of me is a tiny glass shoe...I look here and there, far and near, frantically searching the ballroom for my future queen. I thought that finally my quest to find true love had ended, this outcome was unforeseen. That moment I decided that when morn arrives, I would search the whole countryside. To find the one who will fit this glass slipper, we will live forever happily and she will be my bride...