As I settle down to write I embrace yet another holiday fiasco. Today in the midst of a “ Martha” holiday moment my sewer backed up. The basting and marinating of three perfect chickens down the tube. I called off dinner and only my mother remained. The day served as a reminder and wake-up call. I was slipping back into old familiar relationship ways.

Yes, Sometimes we need sewage to remind us that the fairytale lives are lies. Emotionally unavailable men really don’t change. Today I woke up to the realization that the Louis Vuitton I have been carrying around is a bag full of crap lined with yesterday’s stories. This is a harsh wake-up call.

Fairytales are horror stories after all. The illusion of happily ever after does not exist. I know this!

To all the emotionally unavailable men it isn’t your fault. We have made you a prince charming and when I say we I mean “ society” We the women who cling to the belief that we can change you and hold on even on a sinking ship.

Today is the day to write a new story one that is reality-based. When you see and accept the truth illusion dissolves and you see things with perspective.

Over Pinot Grigio, my mother laughs eating her chicken” This will probably be a story” she sighs and laughs. “ Everything is a story for you to write”. She only knows the half of the fiasco. In my pandemic loneliness, I had let in some unusual companions. On this Christmas day, I was clinging to the “ fairytale” the sewage was timely. Real love evolves and does not rescue. We need to do this ourselves.

Let us teach and show our children what love is. Let us love them for who they are and in doing so we end the fairytale.