Personally, I don’t quite see what weddings and restraint have to do with one another. What, you think I like weddings because they’re romantic? Please. A wedding, like any public ceremony, is a production, and that is irresistible to a theater goddess.
As I write this, it’s late Sunday night and I’m wiped out from a weekend of celebrating a hastily-planned but long-awaited family wedding. So, for this Media Monday, I’m just sharing a couple scenes from a favorite Glee episode that I couldn’t get out of my head during the festivities.
I don’t know your name yet. I don’t know anything about you. I don’t even know if you identify as a woman, a man, or both, or neither. I don’t know if I’ll be the first bisexual person you date. I don’t know if, at this point in time, dating a bi woman is something you’ve ever considered. And I don’t know if you watch Glee.
If you’re a straight cisgender man, my obsession with Glee in its early seasons is probably something you’ll laugh at me about. If you’re anything else, you’ll probably laugh about it with me. And rage with me. And cry with me. But whether or not you were watching Glee in its fifth season and saw the episode “Tina in the Sky with Diamonds,” you’ve probably been exposed to this biphobic stereotype in one way or another: thatyou will never be everything a bi woman could possibly need and want, because she’s capable of being attracted to something opposite of you. And I want to tell you right now that this pervasive, bigoted, malignant stereotype is…correct.
You are NOT everything I could possibly need and want.
No individual human being CAN be everything another individual human being could possibly need and want.
Maybe you’re white. I’ll still be attracted to Adriana Lima and Enrique Iglesias. Maybe you’re short and slender. I’ll still be attracted to Liv Tyler and Chris Hemsworth. Going beyond looks, maybe you hate my favorite tv show. I’ll still want to talk about it with a friend who does like it. Maybe you hate sewing or crafting or knitting or equestrian sports or fashion or makeup. I’ll still want to keep those hobbies/interests and share them with people who do like them. People who aren’t you. People to whom I’m theoretically capable of developing an attraction.
Whatever your best qualities are, whatever made me fall in love with you, someone else in the world has those qualities, only better. And someone else has the opposite qualities, which may also be attractive to me. You’re not the only person in the world that I could’ve happily married. No matter how compatible we are, I will, at some point in our relationship, have a problem you can’t solve and an emotional need you can’t fulfill. I’ll like things you hate and hate things you like. I’ll want to try something in bed (or elsewhere) that you won’t, and I’ll veto something you want to try.
But I will always choose you. Out of all the women and men and everything in between that I could’ve had, you are the one I’ll decide to spend my life with. You are the one I’ll want to be the mother/father/parent of my children. And I’ll make that choice for the simple, inexplicable, irrational reason that you are you and no one else is, and I’ll have fallen in love with you.
Whether you’re gay, straight, bi, or actively label-free, I’m trusting that you’ll choose me for the same reason. And that even though I can’t fulfill your every need and desire any more than you can fulfill mine, you will always choose me. Because I am me and no one else is, and you’ll have fallen in love with me.
The news of Cory Monteith’s tragic death was the last thing I read before I went to bed last night. An RIP post on Tumblr tipped me off. I Googled Cory’s name hoping to find it was a rumor or a hoax. Instead I found a full page of links confirming that this beautiful, talented man who was the same age as me had been found dead in his hotel room. I put my Heath Ledger flashbacks to rest, went to bed, and desperately hoped there was some chance I’d wake up to find out the whole thing was a rumor. Didn’t happen.
But that’s exactly the kind of thing that would happen on Glee. Glee, I don’t know how to tell you this because you apparently love making Very Special Episodes so much, but…you suck at it. You really, really suck at it. So far your numerous efforts have included a suicide episode with no suicide and a school shooting episode with no school shooting. To be fair, your heart attack episode and cancer episode did feature a real heart attack and real cancer, but the patient (the same guy? really? what did poor Burt Hummel ever do to you?) still turned out to be just fine in the end.
Glee, you cannot handle real, long-term, lasting tragedy. So please don’t try.
It’s not a bad thing. Like you’re constantly telling your characters and your audience, know who you are and embrace it. You are fun, campy, bubbly, over-the-top, ridiculous, not-remotely-reality-based escapism. That’s what I’ve always loved about you. When you play to your strengths, it’s wonderful. But when you try to be something you’re not, it’s painful for everyone. Not in the touching, poignant way you’re going for, but in a bad American Idol audition way. So, please, don’t try to deal with Cory Monteith’s death by dealing with Finn Hudson’s death. You cannot pull it off. You just can’t.
Especially after the train wreck that was Finn’s season 4 character arc. I spent the whole season trying to figure out what you were punishing Cory for. It felt like you were going out of your way to portray Finn as a loser. And you gave him such a strong send-off at the end of season 3. He set Rachel free to pursue her dreams and to explore the world outside of Lima, OH and McKinley High. He went off to do the same thing himself by following in his late father’s footsteps and joining the military. In his final moments Finn was the man he’d spent the last 3 years becoming. Even though I was a die-hard Finchel shipper, I thought that was the best ending you could’ve given them.
But, no. You had to bring Finn back just to show him as a pathetic slacker who’d gotten kicked out of the military, had no job prospects beyond those offered out of pity, tried college just to party, occasionally rejoined Rachel for weird scenes that made me wonder when he’d be wearing her face for a mask, and broke up his mentor’s impending marriage by kissing his fiancee. Please, Glee, I’m begging you, don’t let this be the way Finn’s story ends. Cory Monteith’s story was cut tragically short by terrible, self-destructive decisions. Finn Hudson’s doesn’t have to be. Give Finn the offscreen ending he deserves.