Oh. Well, apparently I have deep-seated issues with being called “Princess” by a romantic prospect. Gotta love a fun and unexpected (funexpected?) fit of rage.
Maybe I’m just bitter that I don’t have a tiara and a big, frilly dress. Or maybe my dad calls me Princess, so it’s creepy. (See also: I’m no longer an 8-year-old girl, and I’m pretty fuck far from a princess.)