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Kissing a Frog

This post was originally published in April, 2011. However, the story within in my most memorable first date…and since oodles of my regular RCM followers weren’t followers then, I thought it was the perfect time to repost.

So, as my contribution to this week’s Writers Workshop, I share with you the horrendous, but completely true, tale of kissing a frog.

As a modern day princess (ahem), I have kissed my fair share of frogs. 

For some strange reason, a frog from long long ago popped into my memories recently. Haven’t thought about this one in a long long time, and (shudder) hope it’s a long long time before I do again.

You see, he was maybe



in the realm


Wow. It’s even tough to write about years and years later.

I must share my tale in order to educate the masses of suitors who descend upon princesses with their charm and ardor.

They need to know that they should brush up on their kissing techniques. And I guess if that means they have to kiss someone other than the Princess, well, then…the Princess must be patient. (Note to suitors: TRY not to CATCH anything whilst honing your skills, m’kay?)

There is nothing, I repeat NOTHING, that ruins a relatively good thing worse than a terrible kiss.

So, in the interest of education, allow me to share this little tale of an attempted arranged marriage gone awry:

Once upon a time, in a kingdom not so very far from here, lived a princess who spent a lot of time with her very Catholic grandmother. Said grandmother desperately wanted to find a good Catholic boy for the royal granddaughter.

One day, Grandmother happened to be at sewing circle and discovered that a neighbor’s young adult son had moved home after being away at the university. He had decided stay at the family estate to assist his aging parents while he was still a single man.

A light bulb popped into the grandmother’s head!

This must be

the prince

for her princess!

And so it was arranged for the young suitor to call upon the Princess when she least expected it during a visit to her beloved grandmother.

One chilly December afternoon, while the Princess was loading her clean laundry into her car to return to her townhouse, the prince appeared at her side (all chivalrous and suave) and suggested he help her load up her baskets.

The conversation quickly turned from laundry to football. And eventually an invitation to watch playoff games was extended from the princess to the suitor.

The day of the date arrived, and all seemed to be going well at first, but things quickly descended into a sad state of affairs. As the afternoon wore on, the Princess began to learn the following lessons:

Princess mistake #1: NEVER invite a potential suitor to one’s home. Even if your grandmother can vouch for his character. It’s still a VERY BAD idea until you know what kind of suitor he turns out to be.

Princess mistake #2: When the potential suitor turns to you during the first 10 minutes of this very first date (unless the loading of the laundry was date #1 which would be entirely CHEAP) and says, “My mother told me to find a fiery red-headed Catholic woman and never let her go!” Then you know it’s time to

RUN, Princess, RUN!

Princess mistake #3: While watching football with a very nervous suitor, do not attempt to make him feel better with peppermint Schnapps. Really. It only makes things worse.

And finally…

Princess mistake #4: When the suitor kisses you, and it’s much more like that open mouthed slobbery type kiss a baby gives in his first year of life (you know, the kind with NO pressure whatsoever, just a slobbery mass of too soft tongue and lips that makes you feel more like an ice cream cone and less like a woman), just get him the Hell out of there before he drinks more peppermint Schnapps.

Because if you do not heed my advice, you will have a very minty, drunk, good Catholic boy pounding on your door begging for one more chance to kiss while Security arrives and escorts him from the property.

Take it from me.

And, truth be told, I kind of liked the guy. His nervousness would have eventually faded. He’d have been hungover and we’d have laughed about it. I’d have let him know he had to do more than “never let me go” in order to keep me forever (and based on his comment, I’m pretty sure his mother would have loved me)…but that kiss?

It was a deal breaker.