Contrary to what fairy tales like Cinderella, (terrible) movies like The Prince & Me, and even some people’s real lives like Grace Kelly having been telling me all my life, I guess this regular girl is not going to be a princess.  Not Prince Willam’s princess anyway.  It finally happened: Wills and Catherine “Kate” Middleton are engaged.  (Does anyone else find it weird that she spells Catherine with a C but Kate with a K?  No?  Just me?  Okay.)  So just like my mom did when Diana got married, and just like I did when Diana died, I’ll wake up at some ungodly hour to watch it all go down across the pond, and for those few hours wish I were British.

I’ve always been a bit of an Anglophile.  I’m a big fan of Brit Lit, contemporary and classic: Harry Potter, all Jane Austen.  And their pop music has always been fantastic — Why does America hate dance music so much?!  And while I’m not one of those crazies who know/follow everything the Royals do, I did love Diana.  (Sorry, Wills, this blog post about you is going to be about your mom too.  You know how it goes.)  I was fourteen when she died, so not only did I have the romanticized view of her as everyone else, I also had this teen angst connection with her.  You know: they didn’t understand her, and she was so strong.  Who knows how much of what we know about her is true, but I know one thing.  In 1997, they made a Beanie Baby in her memory.  And in 1997, there could be no greater honor.

The press was pretty kind to William and Harry after that, and we only saw them occasionally, especially stateside, I’m sure.  But I did notice that William was getting super cute (as would Harry eventually, minus that Nazi thing…).  And in 2000, I just happened to be in England when Williamania hit, i.e. his 18th birthday.  There were so many specials on Brit TV.  And he did his first official photo shoot, allowing cameras into Eton.  There were pictures of him cooking!  And in a Union Jack vest!  This was also when I first learned the term “prefect,” which would come in handy when I started reading HP the following fall.  I also looked up if I, as an American, could marry him.  Yep.  If I’m remembering correctly, I could.  I think I could even be Queen because the King is more in charge or whatever.  The only hitch was, I was a confirmed Catholic, so I’d have to get excommunicated.  For Wills, I would have done it.

Alas, it seems it is not to be.  I never did do that semester abroad at St. Andrews I fantasized about.  (Fun fact: Jonathan Taylor Thomas also did a semester there.)  Had I, perhaps it would be our engagement the Prince of Wales would be announcing.  At least that’s how it went in my dreams.  Instead, I’ll just have to be content waking up to watch his wedding at 3:00am. 

Oh, and here is the “Prince William” section from my magazine collection: