I can change a tire. I know how to check my oil, washer fluid, and radiator. I can jump off my car and change the battery. I spent one week of my summer as a college student roofing a house. With a hammer—not a nail gun because that would have been too easy. I can refinish furniture, and I know how to use a table saw. Laying tile? No problem.
My point? I’m not a damsel in distress. I can take care of myself. Yeah. There are men out there who aren’t a gallant anything. Men interested in collecting; not saving. Men looking for trophies and conquests. These are the men who hoard women under their wings of protection. Men who aren’t interested in kindness or saving or generosity or grace—but only interested in power, only rescuing to control. These men know nothing of Prince Charming or the Princess. And women never need their kind of rescue.
But what if you want and need the rescue of a true protector—one who honors and cherishes and loves, one who’s ready to storm the castle wielding his sword and shield? Is that okay in today’s society?
It’s okay to want the gentleman. The one who opens the doors for me, gives me the umbrella going without his, fills my car with gas, and lifts the heavy furniture. I want the man who wants to protect me from myself. I want to teach my son, Caleb, to be a prince too. And I don’t believe I’m weak-minded for saying so. Because really? We’re all in need of rescuing.
I’m not saying a woman must have a man to live a fulfilled, amazing life. That is not my heart. But we do need community. Sisters, it’s okay to want the rescue. It’s okay to yearn for your own fairy tale with colors different from Disney in hues of truth and a spectrum of stained glass beauty. A healing balm for the sore muscles and bruises we bear from fighting alone. So I WILL fight for my Prince Charming.