I love Romeo and Juliet. Regardless of who recreates it, I love that two people are so in love that one can’t live without the other. It’s heart-melting and powerful yet, so not where I am.
Honestly, and I use the term loosely, I’m not feeling Wendy’s pain at her husband’s infidelity. Besides, the probability of it happening outweighed the chances that it wouldn’t. It’s a merging of Karma and simple mathematics that I don’t have to spell out for intellectuals as yourselves.
My suspicion is that some part of Wendy has died at this public humiliation. She’s now the hot topic of hot topics. I mean, she’s passing out on stage and shit. We know the real deal. I also suspect that she and Hubby are sleeping in separate bedrooms. It’s perfectly fine to speculate because she’d say the same for anyone else in the same situation. Girl, I’m so glad I’m not you right now.
And sadly, none of us will learn from this. Not you. Not me. Not even Wendy. We all have ridden an ominous wave where we felt we’d learned a valuable lesson from a downfall, then ultimately come to the realization that we didn’t. There’s an easiness at settling back into the muck of social media hoopla. As long as Fox will have her, she’ll continue to rag on people because she has a kid in college now. Strangely enough though, anytime a man is behind the career of a woman, where she has given him a position, cheating is inevitable. He will typically go for the housekeeper or someone who needs a jumpstart in her own career. You know, so he can feel like somebody in charge of something. He gets real tired of being the behind the scenes dude who everyone knows was probably hustling CDs in the parking lot of Wal-Mart before iTunes made its mark.
Wendy and Kevin are long past being star-crossed lovers in fair Verona. I imagine she’s taken one of those big bony hands and landed a few slaps to his face a few good times.