Beauty Was Busy, So I Dated the Beast

I didn’t mean to date the Beast. Honestly, I was just looking for someone who wouldn’t ghost me after three dates and maybe owned a working air fryer. But then I found myself in a castle with peeling wallpaper, drafty windows, and a very hairy man roaring at a microwave. Life takes turns.

See, Beauty was busy. She had her own thing going on—grad school, yoga retreats, the kind of lifestyle that involves saying “my therapist says” before every sentence. When the enchanted castle ran short on suitors, I got the call.

I said yes. Not because I have particularly brave taste in men, but because my mother had been nagging me about “settling down.” She didn’t specify with whom.

The First Date

Our first dinner together was… loud. Beast tried to make spaghetti, but apparently enchanted kitchens don’t come with pasta strainers. He just yelled at the pot until the noodles gave up. I pretended not to notice the fur floating in my bowl.

“Eat,” he commanded.

I nodded, twirling hair-covered spaghetti around my fork. “So… do you like movies?”

He roared. I think it was a “yes.”

Communication Issues

Now, I know relationships take work. But dating someone who expresses his emotions exclusively in snarls and howls adds a certain challenge.

Me: “Do you want to watch Netflix or Hulu?”

Beast: ROAR.

Me: “Okay, Hulu. Got it.”

He never remembered anniversaries, but in his defense, he had the memory span of a particularly angry squirrel. Instead of flowers, he brought me dead squirrels. Romantic in a questionable, medieval way.

Introducing Him to Friends

My friends were… polite.

“So, this is Beast,” I said as he loomed over them at Applebee’s, shedding fur onto the appetizer sampler.

Beast tried to shake hands, but his claws shredded the mozzarella sticks.

“He’s, um, passionate,” I added, as he roared at the waiter for not refilling the breadsticks fast enough.

Afterward, my best friend texted me: “Girl, blink twice if you need help.”

The Hair Problem

Let’s talk grooming. Dating the Beast was like owning a German Shepherd that drank espresso. He shed everywhere—on the couch, in the sink, once even inside the freezer. I bought three lint rollers and still looked like I had adopted a bear.

Kissing him was a mouthful of fur. I tried suggesting a haircut, but when I showed him clippers, he growled like I’d insulted his ancestors.

Still, he did try. One night he used conditioner. His mane glistened in the moonlight. I almost swooned—until he shook himself dry like a Labrador and ruined the curtains.

The Castle Life

Dating Beast did have perks. The castle was huge, if drafty. Candles lit themselves. Talking furniture offered me unsolicited life advice.

The wardrobe told me I “needed more jewel tones.” The clock suggested I “work on punctuality.” The teapot lectured me on hydration. It was like living with a thousand passive-aggressive roommates.

But there was something cozy about late nights by the fire, Beast roaring softly as he drifted off, like a chainsaw purring.

The Breakthrough

One night, after Beast roared at me for burning toast, I snapped.

“Use your words!” I shouted.

He blinked. Then he coughed. Then—miracle of miracles—he said:

“Sorry.”

It was the first time I’d heard an actual word from him. His voice was gravelly, like someone gargling rocks, but it was English.

“Sorry?” I repeated, stunned.

He nodded. “Toast… okay.”

Reader, I nearly cried. It wasn’t Shakespeare, but it was progress.

The Almost-Happily Ever After

Things got better. He learned small phrases. “Good night.” “Hungry.” “Netflix.” Communication was still 70% roaring, but at least I could tell the difference between “I love you” and “Who ate my leftovers?”

My standards… well, they adjusted. Sure, he wasn’t Prince Charming. He couldn’t dance without breaking furniture. He chewed with his mouth open. His breath smelled like wet wolf. But he never ghosted me. He never played mind games. He never said “let’s just keep it casual.”

He was there, fur, roars, and all.

Epilogue

Eventually, Beauty finished grad school and came back for him. There was some awkwardness. She had the pedigree; I had the patience.

In the end, Beast chose her. Something about destiny, enchantments, and true love blah blah blah.

Do I regret it? Not really. I learned a lot:

Always carry a lint roller.

If a man roars, it doesn’t mean he’s angry. Sometimes he’s just hungry.

And most importantly: sometimes low standards lead to high adventures.

So no, I didn’t get a fairy-tale ending. But I did get a story. And in this economy, that’s worth something.

Besides, I hear Shrek is single.