When I was little, it seemed that there was a clear instruction manual for success with boys. My mother knew it by heart. You always have to be neat, wear makeup, speak politely, not raise your voice, and behave like a princess. A princess, of course, must know how to cook. Preferably in such a way that you immediately want to marry her.

I tried. Honestly. I learned to sit beautifully, watch my tone, and not say too much. I mastered the kitchen as a strategically important object. An image formed in my head: well-groomed, calm, proper. Almost like a fairy tale.

Time passed. The princess grew up. Sometimes I wear makeup, sometimes I don't — it depends on my mood and the weather. I'm still polite, but now I've added the ability to say “no.”

And then came the biggest surprise of adult life. It turns out that few people need a perfect picture. Much more often, it is a living person who arouses interest. Someone who can be tired, funny, sometimes disorganized. Someone who can laugh at themselves and doesn't try to look “proper” all the time.

Mom was right and wrong at the same time. The skills came in handy. But for some reason, life did not turn into a “Best Princess of the Year” contest. No one awards a crown for properly cooked borscht and neat eyeliner.

Instead, it turned out that the ability to be yourself is much more valuable. Without constant control. Without the image of a “convenient girl.” With character, habits, and your own opinion.

And then a logical question arises: who needs me like this? The answer is suddenly simple. Someone who doesn't need makeup or culinary feats, but a living woman. Not a princess from an instruction manual, but a person with whom you can live, eat, and laugh.

And this, as it turns out, is much rarer... and much more interesting.