Barbie and Ken used to be the highlight of my knowledge on relationships. Those two plastic dolls could read my curious six year old mind better than I could read a book cover to cover. Barbie knew that my favorite room in her decked out three story playhouse was her golden, apple-themed kitchen. So, she aspired to be the best cook my playroom had ever seen, with Ken as her brilliant accomplice. Those two, excessively tanned and all, always knew the most romantic places for the perfect date and how to resolve even the most brutal arguments. They were my best friends- my innocent little secret.

So when Barbie forgot to buy the most important part of Thanksgiving dinner (the mashed potatoes of course!), Ken generously stepped out to run across my playroom to the Shop’N’Go provided to me as a birthday present. Being in such a hurry, Ken forgot to look both ways before crossing the street; he was harshly reminded by Fluffy, my black lab. Shining eyes and tail wagging more frantically than a tornado, Fluffy gobbled him up like a shark would an irresponsible surfer. And that was the horrid end to my beloved Ken.

Ken’s funeral devastated both Barbie and me for he was my only male doll. Who was Barbie to bake pies with and go on romantic walks with now? After being rejected time after time and tear after tear by my parents for a new doll, I was hopeless; Barbie and I were left with her friends Chelsea and Kendall. They weren’t as handsome as Ken or nearly as thoughtful or kind. They didn’t have the whole chivalry thing down as dream boys were supposed to, and they were nowhere near being male. Still, the brunette and redhead replacements would have to do. At least they weren’t chewed to pieces by Fluffy. Most fortunately of all, they weren’t Bratz.


As the peaceful snow of winter transformed into the rambunctious flowers of spring, Barbie hosted all girl parties, taught her friends to cook, and seemed to gradually forget about her dear Ken. Her attitude wore off on me and I found myself feeling the same. Who says Barbie and I needed a man to live? We were perfectly stable all on our own. Barbie even started her own business- a four star restaurant that inched closer and closer to that fifth star every day. Something good even came out of Ken’s catastrophe; Chelsea and Kendall had become great company and even better friends.


There was a day, though, that changed my whole outlook on life. Barbie and her friends had taken a vacation to the living room for the week where my mom happened to be watching one of her sappy soap operas that she couldn’t get enough of. Barbie mistook it for a movie premier and convinced her friends and me to settle down and view the show. I didn’t understand a lot of it, being unfamiliar with the characters and most of the adult content, but Barbie was enjoying it. I figured, ‘Why bother?’


While paying more attention to my mischief-eyed dog glaring from across the room than to the television, I wished the show to be over so Barbie would pay attention to me again. After a quick commercial of the Kool-Aid man raiding yet another child’s house (he better not come here and mess with my playroom, I had thought), the soap opera flashed from scene to scene with crying mothers and over excessive muffled hugs. Just as I was about to doze off, an interesting scene caught my attention. There were two girls dancing in a dimmed place with lots of people. They seemed as if they were having the time of their lives and witnessing their excitement and happiness for life was enticing. I was just about to decide that soap operas weren’t so bad after all until the unthinkable happened.

The two girls kissed.

Mouth to mouth, lip to precious lip, they collided. It was exactly like Barbie and Ken when he was still alive. Eyes closed and bodies crushed, the girls held for another second in the embrace and shifted away, smiling devilishly.


Now I was shocked, as if I had been struck by lightning. First I believed I was merely dreaming- that I was engulfed into one ginormous nightmare. When my pinch failed to relieve me, I thought I had imagined it. Kisses were meant to be shared with mother and child, owner and dog, boy and girl! Not girl and girl! I felt obliged to ask Mom how that could be and why they weren’t being scolded by their own mothers for bending the status quo, but I couldn’t bring myself to. Maybe she would never let me watch again. Confused as I was, I certainly knew one thing. My curious being was yearning to see it again. Even thinking about those girls sped up my heart while rebellion ached in my heart. And I knew for sure I liked those feelings.


Later on after Barbie and her friends returned to my playroom, they agreed that they wanted to watch the show again. They also agreed that the incident with the two girls was something they’ve never seen before. Barbie suggested that maybe we should try it. From that moment on, I never needed a Ken again.