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    Kissing Frogs: The Path to a Prince
    Kissing Frogs: The Path to a Prince
    Kissing Frogs: The Path to a Prince
    Ebook102 pages1 hour

    Kissing Frogs: The Path to a Prince

    By Lydia Lambert

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    About this ebook

    Lydia is a princess-an African American princess. She has beauty, brains, and a Benz, but she is a displaced royal due to divorce. She searches her kingdom for a prince, someone worthy of her status, grace, and intelligence, but Mr. Right is elusive. In the process of searching for a suitable suitor, Lydia must kiss a lot of frogs. Kissing Frogs is an odyssey of hope, joy, romance, disappointment, and insight as Princess Lydia journeys to Mr. Right and a state of happily ever after.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisheriUniverse
    Release dateOct 14, 2005
    ISBN9780595800148
    Kissing Frogs: The Path to a Prince
    Author

    Lydia Lambert

    Lydia Lambert is a retired public school principal and high school English teacher, who continues to look for Mr. Right, when she isn?t traveling the world, playing the piano and golf, and helping others with writing challenges. Lydia resides in Cincinnati, Ohio and is working on her Ph.D.

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      Book preview

      Kissing Frogs - Lydia Lambert

      Copyright © 2005 by Lydia Lambert

      All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

      iUniverse books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting:

      iUniverse

      2021 Pine Lake Road, Suite 100

      Lincoln, NE 68512

      www.iuniverse.com

      1-800-Authors (1-800-288-4677)

      ISBN-13: 978-0-595-35530-3 (pbk)

      ISBN-13: 978-0-595-80014-8 (ebk)

      ISBN-10: 0-595-35530-7 (pbk)

      ISBN-10: 0-595-80014-9 (ebk)

      Printed in the United States of America

      Contents

      1   

      The Prince

      2   

      The Princess

      3   

      The Pauper

      4   

      Paying to Play

      5   

      Borrowing Husbands

      6   

      The Fix-Up

      7   

      A Young Mans Fantasy

      8   

      An Old Mans Fantasy

      9   

      Foreign Affairs

      10

      The Gay Guy

      11

      The Gay Girl

      12

      Church Lady

      13

      Mr. Right

      14

      A Realistic Fantasy

      15

      Happily Ever After

      Questions for Discussion

      About The Author

      Acknowledgements

      Thank you, God.

      Many have inspired and influenced the completion of this odyssey. To my muse, Ann Marie, thank you for brainstorming ideas, for staying on my case, for interpreting behavior, and for thinking I was brilliant. To Beth and Renee, who always said I should; well, I did and I thank you. I thank Yolanda and Dan for the technical and literary suggestions. Lawrence, this is a testimony to your belief in me and to the tenet that anything is possible if you believe in yourself. Mark, I thank you for helping me to find myself and for your apology on behalf of all the impaired men in my life. Everette, thank you for giving me hope and letting me know that there are still a few princes left. Le Roi, you already know you are a king. To all the men in my life, thank you for loving me in your own way. To my family who believes I can do anything and to my parents who always knew I would, thank you.

      1   

      The Prince

      I’m a princess. I have denied my royal status for years, trying very hard to fit in with the peasants, because it’s lonely at the top. So, at fifty-five, I’m told that all I have to do is show up and people can expect a good time. For a good time, call Lydia!

      How do I know that I am a princess of royal birth? Because I have discriminating tastes. Just like the fairy tale of the princess and the pea, I could always feel the pea under my mattress, and I could always discern the difference between butter and margarine, between cheap and quality, and between imitation and real. When I was a little girl and went shopping with my mom, she said I always picked out the most expensive item—and I wasn’t reading price tags. I just picked out what I liked, and I like quality. So, when choosing wine, I don’t pick the kind that come with screw tops; and I never stay in a hotel with fewer than four stars or diamonds or apples or whatever the appropriate indicator might be; and on a cruise, I will always stay in an outside cabin with a balcony on the uppermost desk.

      A divorced princess has no royal status. My royal coupling was a Ken and Barbie wedding with swords. The groom was an Air Force ROTC second lieutenant, so there was a uniformed military honor guard. We were the perfect couple—young, intellectually and physically gifted, black, and the son and daughter of professional, highly respected families—and many envied us.

      I have been betrayed by the happily ever after fairytale dream. One day, my prince did come and did carry me away from Dragon Dad, but he was anxious to rescue other damsels in distress, and with that I could not cope. He liked the hunt. I wanted him home with me in the castle living happily ever after until death did us part. So, left to my own devices one too many times, I left the castle, taking with me the heir to the throne—our six-year-old son—settling quietly in the village, dedicating myself wholly to being the best mom in the land.

      Dragon Dad

      I originally left the castle to escape my Dragon Dad. Dad was, of course, the first man in my life. He was austere and mean and alcoholic and determined to keep me pure and pristine until such time that the proper dowry was presented. Dad was a dentist by profession, but cheap. His office was a rundown storefront, and his office staff was me on Friday nights, which deprived me of all opportunity for a high school social life. To look the part, I was required to wear a white nurse’s dress and shoes. I was twelve when I began my indentured slavery. Having only had one semester of home economics, I put a four-inch hem in my dress. The shoes were white rubber-soled wedge platforms, with a little cutout for the toe. I wore them without the matching white hose. Ugly did not begin to describe the look. I looked more like a Halloween caricature than a dental assistant.

      In addition to taking names of patients as they came in, pulling dental records, setting up the exam room, cleaning instruments, mixing the substance to make impressions, straightening the waiting room, mopping the floor, answering the phone, making appointments, and going across the street to the bar to get change, I did my homework in the poorly lit, uncomfortable, always-the-wrong-temperature, cluttered, dirty office. Office hours were from 5:00 P.M. until after midnight. If I didn’t get home from school in time to get something to eat, before my dad left for the office, there was no dinner. Dad didn’t think I needed anything to eat. There was no such thing as running through a drive through and he flat-out refused to give me money to get a hamburger from the Dairy Queen down the street. So I was hungry.

      Dad had a good heart for strangers, but his patient clientele was far from royalty. Occasionally, patients presented him with big bills—a twenty and rarely a fifty. In that event, I had to go to the bar across the street to get change. Dad could have posted a sign in his office that said No Cash Kept on the Premises. It was true. He never had cash,

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