And the beautiful princess got a lovely condo in a gentrified historical distrist. She wore, ate, and watched on TV whatever she wanted to, went to art shows and independent films, drank wine with her girlfriends, never had to pick up beer cans, pizza boxes, cigarette butts or skidmarked underwear. Her paycheck never got spent on the latest electronic consumer trap. She kept her figure because she never got pregnant, dated fit, handsome, wealthy men who didn't "forgot" their wallets, could always identify everything in her refrigerator, didn't find that her computer wallpaper had been changed to porn, and her ass never fell into the toilet because she always put the seat down.
And then the princess heard that the prince had HIV and cirrhosis, and she was maybe just a little sad. Eventually the prince got crapfaced and ran his motorcycle into a retaining wall, leaving not even a cat to mourn him. The End.
Sometimes the prince marries a princess that thinks he's cool as fuck just the way he is and he can keep the jeans he got in high school even though they came out of the wash last week with a wear-hole because she thought the hole was kinda sexy and he can drink whatever he wants and his princess is actually the one dragging HIM to that Tool concert two months ago and on his birthday she brings a friend home to party. And they all lived happily ever after because he didn't date stupid bitches.