The year was 1981 and I was 14, the age at which young girls dream of fairy tale weddings. Before day-to-day adult realism set it (and you all know what I mean), I imagined what it would be like to marry a prince.

Lady Diana Spencer, just 20-years-old, was about to find out. Only six years older than me, she was marrying the Prince of Wales, the future king of England, and she’d give birth to a future king or queen.

The Princess of Wales was the reason I became intrigued by the history of the British monarchy. From Egbert of Wessex to Queen Elizabeth II, it is a rogues’ gallery, with a few good eggs, too. Murderers, drunks, druggies, adulterers, good-deed-doers, warriors, cowards, Christians, heathens, the faithful, the faithless…and sinners all.

I read about all of them. Especially fascinating were tales of the Plantagenet King Richard III, rumored to have murdered his two young nephews (who were only children) so he could grab the throne; Tudor King Henry VIII, who “discarded” wives who didn’t give birth to a male heir; “German” Queen Victoria, whose descendants (and “bad blood”) are scattered throughout the royal houses of Europe; and King Edward VIII, who gave up his throne to marry a twice-divorced American (crazy!).

I also read about the British peerage system and learned the differences between a Duke, a Marquis, an Earl, a Viscount, what happens to a peer’s daughter’s courtesy title when she marries a titled man versus an untitled man — everything that would bore the average American.

(FYI, Diana was never “Princess Diana.” She was the wife of a prince, not the daughter of a king or queen, like Princess Anne, or the male-line granddaugther of a king or queen. Under the British monarchy, wives of princes are allowed to use the female version of their husband’s title. Example: Princess Michael. As the wife of the Prince of Wales, Diana’s title was “HRH The Princess of Wales.” Former wives of titled men can still use their titles, but they go behind the first name. So Diana became the lesser “Diana, Princess of Wales,” with no “Her Royal Highness,” after the divorce. As the daughter of an earl, she was allowed the courtesy title “Lady” before her name.)

Ever since “Shy Di” hit the scene back in the early 80s, people have praised her, maligned her, and everything in between. I didn’t care what they said. All I wanted to do was see that royal wedding. I spent all day sitting on my bed watching the preparations and the wedding and the “after party” on my tiny color TV.

I took the whole thing to the extreme, as I often do when I’m excited about something. I was so caught up in the “Lady Di” wave that I used to sign homework and test papers as “Lady La Shawn.” Don’t laugh. I was 14. My ninth grade Social Studies teacher, Coach A. (who looked like Jerry Seinfeld with a moustache), was the only one who indulged me, bless his heart. When I raised my hand in class, he’d call on me and say, “Lady La Shawn!” Kids laughed the first few times until they got used to it.

I didn’t know the woman and can’t say I wanted to meet her, but I was shocked when 36-year-old Diana, Princess of Wales, was killed in car crash 10 years ago today. Whatever her faults and issues, she left behind two teenaged boys at a time when they needed her most. Diana had terrible taste in men and was a bit neurotic, but she used her notoriety to bring attention to good causes like AIDS research and the elimination of land mines.

For coverage of the 10th anniversary of Diana’s death, see Sky News (with live-blogging), the Guardian, and the BBC.