Princely Matters

It’s a universal truism that all of us, no matter who we are or where we live, have the fantasy that “someday our handsome prince will come.”  And princes, like guys everywhere, have to dress, although admittedly they usually get uniforms, sashes, medals, crowns, boots and fashion that is a bit fancier than the rest of us ever see.  I have to wonder how that works, too, in this modern day and age.  We can probably all accept the idea that princes have personal valets who assist them with their clothes, but does this guy actually wake up His Highness and ask, “What will you have today, sir?  Briefs or trunks?”

It really is a shame that these guys have to live in the spotlight the way they do.  I can’t imagine having no privacy, not being able to cut loose with my buddies because I can, and worrying about paparazzi always being around.  (Princes William and Harry certainly got their share of tabloid buzz, didn’t they?)  And certainly, prince or not, you should be able to walk around in a towel, in a swimsuit, or in your skivvies if you want to.  I mean, really … if you’re going to be the king of a country someday, don’t you think you should be allowed to exhibition yourself if you want to?  Of course you would: another universal truism.

Given that I’m a romantic and will easily watch a period piece over a buddy comedy any day, I think we’re missing out on something by not having more monarchies.  The countries that do have them, and I mean primarily the ceremonial monarchies, seem to be doing pretty well and don’t have that many issues.  And when these lucky families churn out princes by the handful, dollars to doughnuts say you’re getting some of the best DNA that can be had.  (There are, of course, exceptions to every rule, and I’ll expound on that in a minute.)

If I were given that magic wish to have my prince come, let the record show that obviously I’d choose Tom first.  I have to – because he truly is a prince.  (And he does windows.)  He’s a nice guy who puts up with me, and I can’t ask for more than that.  But let’s just say, for argument’s sake, I had the power to make a prince happen my way, which one would I choose?  I don’t have my fallback: a plethora of underwear shots to refer to, and it’s very rare to find a swimsuit photo, or even one where’s he shirtless.  We always come back to the parade uniform – the official ceremonies uniform and the like.  And we certainly don’t get one with a crown.

On the “no way” end of the spectrum, I have to single out the men from Monaco.  Although I have visited there and was completely taken aback by how self-compartmentalized Monaco is, Prince Albert II does zero-zip-zilch for me and neither does his nephew, heir presumptive Andrea Casiraghi.  But don’t count out the royals of the tiniest European nations yet – Prince Constantin of Liechtenstein, third son of the current monarch Hans-Adam II, has definite promise.

I’m probably one of the few people who doesn’t find Prince William of England attractive.  I never have.  Loved Princess Diana, and I love the fact that he espouses everything his mother stood for.  But that’s pretty much it.  As far as I’m concerned, Kate Middleton can have William lock, stock, and barrel.  I won’t say the same for Prince Harry.  I don’t know what it is – the wild child reputation, that bad boy/playboy smirk, the short rusty hair … just don’t know.  It’s amazing to me that there has actually been so much press about him in various stages of his life, but still none of the caliber that would make him my Number One choice.  (And there’s still that tiny-can’t-be-ignored-speck-of-doubt that his father may not be Prince Charles, but James Hewitt, with whom Diana had an affair.  Hewitt himself has commented that there is no way Harry’s birth fits into the affair’s timetable, but since red hair is a Hewitt trait, the rumors persist to this day.)

The princes that really pique my interest are Scandinavian.  First, there’s Crown Prince Haakon of Norway.  He’s square-jawed, bearded, dark-featured with a nice smile (that I can easily imagine becomes broody, melancholy and yet romantic) … but he’s married with two children.  I’m not sure there are many princes (or any, for that matter) that would leave their wives and children for a dalliance with an American guy, although something akin has become the plot of many a Lifetime movie event.  Needless to say, Haakon would be in the running, though, if circumstances were different.  And I still have no pictures that profile his profile – everybody likes to know what they’re getting, right?

Luckily for me, my choice for Number One Prince is Carl Philip, Prince of Sweden, Duke of Värmland.  First, he’s in his mid-thirties, so he’s emotionally, fiscally, and physically stable.  Second, not married.  (According to Wikipedia, he is in a relationship, but “in a relationship” doesn’t equal “married” in my book, and there are so many hoops royals have to jump through to get their marriages legitimized, I consider his options open.)  Third, he has all the benefits of being royalty, but with none of the primary responsibility (he’s the middle child of three; he’s currently third in line for Sweden’s throne after his older sister Victoria and her daughter, Estelle, due to a change in the Swedish rules of succession).  Fourth, he’s hot.  And lastly, I found a swimsuit shot of His Highness that accentuates his chest and the curve of his backside.  (Not a Speedo shot, unfortunately, but hey, what can you do?)

So, yeah … I like the idea of having a prince to come home to, wearing his sashes and medals and honors but still stripping down like any other guy.  And if there is one thing I’ve discussed at length, it’s how guys, prince or not, all look the same in their undershorts.  And don’t princes owe it to the common man to show that they’re the same as everyone else?

Yeah.  Thought so.  (Now all I have to do is learn the Swedish national anthem.)