Sometimes I can't believe how lucky one guy can be.

Here I am, standing next to the girl who I never realized was the lost princess. But if you want to know the truth, even if she wasn't the lost princess, she is—and always will be—my princess.

It doesn't matter whether her hair is blonde, or brown, or black, or red, or purple, whether it's 70 feet long or a short bob—I tell myself I didn't fall in love with it, though it has saved me on several occasions, for which I am grateful. I just know I fell in love with Rapunzel. She's the one for whom I gave up my thieving ways, though when people ask her, she claims I'm still a thief. Then she takes them aside and whispers:

"He stole my heart."

Of course, I just laugh, sweep her up in my arms, and give her a big kiss, for in that respect, she's as much of a thief as I ever was.

I'll never forget those first few moments, when I looked up into her eyes in the tower. Sure, her hair may have been drastically different, but I knew I loved her even then—and couldn't thank her enough for saving me.

Yes, we've been through so much, but I know I can't wait to make her my wife, to spend the rest of my days by her side.

Rapunzel—my love, my Princess—I am forever thankful I found her—not just for her parents' sake, for her kingdom's sake, but also because she gives my life new meaning.