I have written here several times about my trials and tribulations regarding my success, or should I say, lack of success, with cheerleaders.
Some of my readers have written since to let me know that perhaps I was just out of their league. Perhaps that is true.
But I have had relatively good success with queens and princesses in my life. Now, I don’t know if they are above or below cheerleaders in the dating food chain, and I care not, for I can make claim to having not only dating a princess, but being married to a queen.
What’s more, they were both named Sharon.
I met Princess Sharon during Seafair in 1985. During Seafair, you’re constantly on the parade circuit, sometimes doing two or even three parades a day. Like a caravan of gypsies, all the same parade units make their way from community to community. Before the parade, there is lots of time to kill, so we eventually make our rounds to all the floats and units, becoming friends with a lot of the participants.
This particular year, I was hanging around my hometown float a lot. No, not the Renton River Days float, but the West Seattle Hi-Yu unit. Earlier in the week we had come across the royalty at several events and my friend Mark had taken a shine to Monica and I was heavily flirting with Princess Sharon.
In Greenwood, I finally got up the nerve to ask her out on a date. You’d think this was easy for a pirate, and it would have been, if they were going out with pirate Robb and not civilian Robb.
I sidled up to Sharon and nervously got ready to ask her out. But I didn’t have to. Before I could, she handed me a note with her elbow-gloved hand. I still have the note.
It says:
Robb – Would you like to escort a princess to lunch or dinner sometime? I would enjoy your company.
Princess Sharon
What did I say? Well, ‘yes’ of course! It was then that she latched her hand around the chain on my neck and dragged me to her, sealing the deal with a kiss. I still have the photo showing the death grip on the chain.
We went out a few days later, double dating with Mark and Monica. In hindsight, I should have picked Monica, because Mark got lucky that night.
Me, I never did. It’s not that Sharon wasn’t an outrageous flirt, but she was also still a virgin. Just my luck. While the pirate in me might have willingly taken her flower, the gentleman in me would have never thought about it. She was saving herself for marriage and I wasn’t about to pop the question just so I could pop the… well, you get the idea.
To say Sharon was a flirt is an understatement. She had a penchant for shopping at thrift stores and seemed to delight in finding new suede mini-skirts to wear over to my house, which was just over the hill from her grandmother’s house where she lived. She would arrive at the door, invite herself in and within moments, drop her skirt to the floor, saying she was hot. Well, she was. Especially now.
Sharon was going to school at the time to be a nanny. As homework, she took home three little moppets to test out her new found nannying skills on. At times, she would bring them along on our “dates,” looking like a little family. This was hardly what I had in mind when I accepted a date with a princess.
One time, she decided to surprise me at work. I was working at Associated Grocers at the time in the mailroom. While it was nearly impossible to keep my pirate and work lives separate, I didn’t usually bring girlfriends to the office.
Sharon decided to surprise me. I got a call from Pam at the front desk. I could barely understand what she was saying she was giggling so hard. I soon found out what was funny. For there, in the lobby, was Princess Sharon, the three moppets and a picnic basket.
Very romantic and thoughtful, if the three kiddies hadn’t been in tow. We sat down at the picnic table near the cafeteria. Sharon and the kids sat on one side, I one the other. I should have sat on her side, for from my vantage point I could see all my friends and co-workers lined up at the Accounts Payable windows laughing their asses off at my domesticated life.
I never ate so fast in my life. Princess Sharon and I drifted away not too long after that. I don’t really know why. It could have been because I didn’t tell her I was moving.
But that is hardly the end of royalty in my life. Nine years later, I traded up quite a bit by marrying a queen. Sharon had been elected Homecoming Queen at Eastern Washington University and had the tiara to prove it. It was always kind of a joke to her that she won, since she was in the dorms at EWU and usually the sorority girls took the crown. But she was swept to office by a huge turnout of dorm voters, robbing the sororities of their lock on the court.
Each year, she would be invited back to Cheney to Homecoming. There, she would ride with the rest of the present and past royalty in convertibles in the parade. I found myself in that convertible once, seated next to my wife the Queen. It was an odd experience for me. I hadn’t ridden in a parade since I was six and had placed in the model building contest at Maryann’s Toy Store in Renton.
And here I was waving to the crowd. I really wanted to be out on the street, where I belonged, armed with a sword and scaring the kids. I may have been the Queen’s husband, but I was still a pirate through and through. I knew I should have asked for a sword to guard the queen. Now that would have been a Homecoming to remember!
Out on the Treasure Coast, wondering if royalty and rogues really mix,
– Robb