If Men Are So Privileged, How Come Woodland Creatures Never Join Me In Song?

Photo by Tú Nguyễn on Pexels.com

by A Handsome Prince

For the record, I know that this opinion isn’t going to be popular. I imagine there aren’t many people who want to consider the plight of a handsome prince. Still, this needs to be said, and it looks like I’m the one who has to say it.

When it comes to being joined in song by a chorus of woodland creatures, women have it a lot better than men.

These are just the facts — don’t shoot the messenger.

Just once I would like to sing one of my originals with some cute, fuzzy accompaniment. I can see it my mind, clear as day. I’d be singing one of my slow jams while I stroll though a sun-dappled wood. One of my horses would be grazing at my side. I’d transition to the second verse and find myself joined by birds, chipmunks and squirrels — perhaps even a rabbit. A deer or two would be great.

But, no. No matter how many times I try it, those adorable little jerks aren’t interested. Instead, I just end up embarrassing myself in front of my favorite horse.

It wouldn’t be so bad, singing alone, if it were just once or twice. But it keeps happening. Initially, I thought it was a numbers game — if I just kept sing-strolling when the wood was sufficiently sun-dappled, at least one animal would throw me a bone. Then, with the ice broken, maybe others would join in and I could have a beautiful little moment. Just one. For the theater of it. It isn’t a lot to ask.

It’s like they all think I’m some sort of joke. A few of these songs are really personal, too. I’m starting to feel like a royal idiot.

I’m just saying, there is no other explanation — it’s because I’m a man. It seems like an automatic response from woodland creatures to sing with women — even the ones who aren’t royalty. Did you know there’s a chamber maid a couple kingdoms over who sings with bluebirds and mice nearly every morning? I heard they even make her bed for her sometimes.

It’s like sexism, but in reverse. I’m completely disgusted.

I know what you’re thinking, ‘why don’t you cry about it, you pampered little jerk?’ Well trust me, I’ve tried. Even when I cry-sing my saddest bangers — I’m talkin’ real tear-jerkers — it doesn’t work. The birds and squirrels and rabbits and everyone else just can’t be bothered, I guess.

And I’m an incredibly skilled lyricist, for the record, so that’s definitely not the problem. I mean seriously, check this out:

I’ve searched my kingdom
Far and wide
For a love that’s pure and true,
Through every inch of the forest,
Why?
Oh, why have I not found you?

You’d think with bars this tight I would get a reaction from at least like an owl or a raccoon or something, but no. Nothing. It’s unfair, and it’s wrong.

If any woodland creatures are reading this, my horse and I will be by the big oak tree at the center of the enchanted forest around 4:00 in the afternoon tomorrow — when the sun is dappling most majestically. I think you owe it to me and to men everywhere to help me out on this.

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