How does a twenty-five-year-old mechanic end up dressed as Prince Charming in front of a dozen small children at a backyard party? As you could probably guess, because of a girl. The girl. And even though she was completely off limits and hated my guts, there I was, standing in stretchy pants and a floppy hat sporting an ostrich feather. It was complicated. Or very simple, depending on how you want to look at it.
