I SWEAR I had just read about Sandra Bullock's interview with Barbara Walters a few days before the latest Hollywood Zippergate news broke. It resonated because the way she described her relationship history sounded a lot like my own.There may be a million other reasons why I haven't found Mr. Right, but one of them is definitely because Eloise Jones and Julie Newell did a damned fine job of moulding me into one fully independent woman. I am not the shy, retiring, girly type. I do not seek a man to make all my decisions for me or pay all my bills. (Well, okay, maybe half of 'em.) At this point in my life, I definitely am not looking for a man to give me an identity. I think I've got that pretty well taken care of.
It's just the way Sandra described finally allowing herself to let a man "have her back" that really rang my bell. I've always kinda needed to show guys that I didn't need that. That I was fully self-contained and in control, and in fact, could probably provide them with a little back-bone if they needed it. I never wanted to appear weak, or even mildly vulnerable. That was just too scary.
Before I go any further, I must state that I am increasingly pitching tent in "Camp Get-A-Life" where obsession with the minutiae of celebrity scandal is concerned. Sure, I find the headlines appalling and will readily offer my gut opinion, but reading some of the online debates about what really happened among bajillionaire superstars usually leaves me incredulous! There is absolutely no way that Lulu in Dubuque, or Rachel in Nairobi, can have the faintest clue about what's going on between Brad and Angie, or Tiger and Elin, or Sandy and Jesse, so why spend so much time speculating and condemning?
One online comment today really sort of summed up the situation. The writer suggested that Sandra Bullock will be just fine. Granted, it must be horrible to have your marriage implode weeks after reaching the absolute pinnacle of your profession, after proclaiming your love and devotion to the world, and after slogging through five years of custody battles for a beloved stepchild.
But when these things happen to superstars, they're a lot more equipped to get over it that you or I would be. Money can't buy happiness, but being depressed in beachfront villa on Mauritius is a lot less crappy than being depressed in a one-bedroom rental apartment in Memphis. Having a nervous breakdown is less of a drag when you can afford the counseling and the anti-depressants, I'd wager.
Still, while I don't know the real story behind what's happening to Sandra and Jesse, my heart so totally goes out to her. And here's my bottom line about Jesse James:
"Brah, at least Tiger's Trash looked vaguely human."
In other words, if your man steps out with a consumptive, lizard-like, stank 'ho, cry all you want, go through all the stages of grief 3 times if necessary, but you must always remember--that is SO not about you.
"I'm just sayin', dawg..."
1 comment:
Well said Rach.
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