happily ever afterHappily ever after—I can’t believe I ever bought into this horrendous lie. So, readers, bear with me, I’m on a rant today.

Since I was small I was exposed to what Merriam-Webster calls an idiom: live happily ever after.  Which means “to live happily for the rest of one’s life.”


Please understand that this was not a parents-only thing. These messages bombarded all of us from all parts of society (religion, Scouting, school, movies, books, etc.).

Let’s face it, living happily ever after began with the fairy tales we were told when young. Think Cinderella, Little Red Riding Hood, The Three Little Pigs, Hansel and Gretel, and The Sleeping Beauty. According to Study.com, fairy tales have happy endings because they were designed to help children learn right from wrong. The evil-doers and children who misbehave in fairy tales often meet a grisly end, but the children who listen to their parents and who do what is good and right come out on top. Fairy tales were enjoyable ways to help teach children lessons about life and about being a good person.

In the end, the messages were clear:

  • Be a good girl.
  • Go to church.
  • Get a good education.
  • Be prepared.
  • Save money for retirement.
  • Marry the love of your life.
  • Work hard.
  • Do a good turn daily.
  • Do not overdrink, overeat, overspend, over… (i.e.: the fun stuff).


OK, I’m getting impatient. For the most part, I did what I was supposed to do, with a few exceptions. (We won’t get into that here. That’s for another blog.) And I’m still waiting to live happily ever after.

Just this month my laptop quit signing into Wi-Fi, my phone and computer calendar stopped syncing, the weight scale stopped syncing and registering when we changed the batteries, and Amazon has not fixed a glitch to sell my latest book, RiRi’s Advice To The Grands, in paperback. (Just try getting help from the behemoth on this problem.) They also screwed up my author page, which is another tirade in itself.

Then, there’s the rehab on my knee. I’m tired of dealing with it. All of this drama, and I’m not even halfway through the month.

And my friend with a troubling blood test…. Boy,

 am I mad. Making friends is hard enough but having them get sick really punches my button.

Society promised me peace and bliss. Where is it?

I’m beginning to suspect that I will not enjoy paradise until I die. I’d never thought about it before, but when they put “Rest in Peace” on a tombstone, it signals that you are finally free of the constant ups and downs of life.


If we stop expecting to live happily ever after, it might be easier to endure the thistles and thorns—no-enormous potholes—that ensnare us as we plod down the highway of life. Expecting them to pop up and then saying, “I’ve been wondering what took you so long” would be better than throwing a temper tantrum every time they do.

Besides, if everything went as planned, we’d be bored. Have you ever read a good book where everything was perfect?

Sigh…. Could you just give me one month to live happily ever after?


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