Showing posts with label My So-Called Reality. Show all posts
Showing posts with label My So-Called Reality. Show all posts

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

The Real World: Homophobia City

Sit down, kiddos, Memaw Natalie is going to tell a story.

Once upon a time there was no World Wide Web. There was an Internet, but it was a tiny web; among its users the incredibly smart, the incredibly geeky, and the incredibly rich. Like most new technologies, early accessibility always for the smart (who invent it), the geeky (who can build it) and the rich (who needn't be smart nor creative, just wealthy enough to purchase the tools to convince people they are both. See for example: Family, Kardashian). So when young Natty was around age 14, the Internet was something spoken of but not yet seen in my household. Since I did not have the Interwebs, I did not have the pleasure of knowing much beyond the media of my time. And since I lived in the Bible Belt, my exposure to some aspects of the world were a bit lacking. For example? The first time I saw two men kiss was on MTV.

Even though we joke about MTV not showing music videos, the channel has been slowly weeding out the music for the past 20 years, and large chunks of time in the '90s were devoted to marathons of every season of The Real World.

The Real World is the original reality show; MTV could not afford to hire actors but wanted a soap opera. So they filmed a soap opera-ish show with camera-willing volunteers. The volunteers are called cast members, and use their real names. It's now a formulaic relic of reality television: seven strangers live together and are filmed. That's the hook. No surviving islands or eating bugs or being from Jersey Shore. Just the hi-jinks of seven people wanting to be on television.
 
For some, myself included, those early seasons were my first look into the strange world of twenty-something-hood. Reality TV provided one of my first encounters with beautiful men kissing on The Real World: Miami. It dispelled some myths I had of what gay men could look like (Village People clones) and caused a bit of perplexing thought as to what body part went where in the love making. (I had long since pieced together the hows of heterosexual intercourse, thanks to a copy of The Joy of Sex studied at a friend's sleepover and 6th grade gossip.) Both of these things were beneficial: I had not yet shaken my Bible Belt upbringing in regard to homosexuality, and following the storyline of a beautiful gay man, cast member Dan, dating in Miami during marathon MTV viewings added to the start of that shaking.

Dan looks a bit bored with all this. (Dan from RW: Miami, official MTV.com photo.)

Fast forward some 15 odd years later, and we have The Real World: Las Vegas. While inexplicably pretending RW: Las Vegas didn't already happen back in 2002, the new RW kids stay at posh Hard Rock hotel and dine at such elegant establishments as the Pink Taco.

Monday, February 14, 2011

SWF seeks SWM who is DTF, enjoys GTL and DWIs

(Welcome to the very first Guest Post of Flâneur in the City! Jamie blogs about her adventures in dating and dog-raising over at Bibliophiled Away. Keen-eyed readers may note that her name is a bit familiar in these parts: Email exchanges with Jamie have appeared on FitC before! Jamie's hobbies include her dog, Rayla, making fun of my spelling, baking rainbow cupcakes, critiquing music, chasing musicians, and generally being hilarious. Give her love! -- Natalie) 


Written By Jamie

When I was in the second grade, the cutest boy in Mrs. Roberts' class, Adam T., asked to hold my hand at a Valentine's Day party. As we were crafting our affections towards our peers with red construction paper and silver glitter, Adam reached across the desk and held out his hand to me. Stunned by his advances, I didn't say anything, but shook my head no, undoubtedly breaking his little 8-year-old heart in the process.

Fast forward twenty years, I am still shaking my head at love, as evidenced by the fact that my dating resume only includes 2.5 boyfriends (Yes, I just referred to a guy as a fraction). As a 28 year old confirmed bachelorette, I haven't had a Valentine in two years. That's a long time to go without a dozen roses, a box of chocolates, a frilly card, a romantic candlelit dinner, a piece of jewelry or two. I think Valentine's Day broke up with me because I was too needy (calling incessantly, asking it what it was thinking all the time, requesting it to buy me tampons on the way home from work), but didn't know exactly how to tell me it wasn't working out between us and hoped that I would get the hint when Valentine's Day wouldn't return any of my calls.

Like any jilted lover, the 14th of February harbors a great deal of resentment in my heart and is now just another day. To express my true feelings, I'd like to manufacture some real conversation starters for the so-called greeting card company fabricated holiday. Who wouldn't like to dip into a tiny red box of chalky heart-shaped candies with such sentiments as: