I’m in the room, exec producer on my right, director to my left, and casting director across the table from me, and they’re swapping stories about girls they’re seeing and asses they’re tapping. I wish I met them years ago to better reap the benefits of their wisdom, because I see it: they can flip a switch the second an actress enters, and suddenly they’re charming, powerful, suave. The switch returns to off when the door closes, and it’s back to the “Vaseline story” about the prostitute in Mexico.
I have friends who’d be great in that room, armed with an encyclopedia of sexual conquests to contribute; guys who can weave sex stories into epics, turning a weekend tryst into an underdog tale, with antagonists and rising action and of course, a climax.
Theirs is a skill set I haven’t refined. When pressed to contribute, I tell them about my girlfriend, Amy. She lives in Ireland. I haven’t seen her in months but she’s visiting for Christmas and New Years. I’ll visit in April, and then she’s going to move to Los Angeles in the fall.
It’s a lovely story. But it’s not what the audience wants to hear. Which is understandable: when you want to see WILD THINGS you don’t settle for YOU GOT MAIL.
The general response is “that’s cute,” which looks like a compliment on paper, but is dismissive and belittling when heard aloud. “That’s cute” is an appropriate response to crazy cats and swearing babies you see on YouTube. Not two people trying to keep a relationship intact from halfway across the world. It’s a backhanded compliment with an unsaid implication:
That’s cute… that you think it’s going to last.
That’s cute… that you think anyone stays faithful these days.
That’s cute… that you think your relationship is a fairy tale, and you’ll live happily ever after.
There’s an inclination to challenge minority status if it’s flaunted, or presented without apology or embarrassment. Unapologetically aligning yourself with the minority is an affront to the status quo. It’s an attack on how others see the world, so they’ll get defensive. They’ll lash out in retaliation, with rebukes or belittlement.
The real insidiousness of their counter-attacks is that it springs from truth as they know it. “Believe, me,” they tell me. “I’ve had the unhappy marriages, the multiple divorces, the legal battles for money, for custody, for the dog. You, you’re young and naive, and what you’re talking about is a fairy tale.”
These are all facts. Irrefutable. I am young and I am naive, and when I tell people about Amy and our relationship that exists 6,000 miles apart with an 8-hour time difference, I wholeheartedly agree. We are chasing the fairy tale.
If you’re not, what would be the point?
Photo Credit: moniellain
