Waiter, We're done. Reality Check Please
When Harry met Sonja. Twenty years ago they dated, he cheated, she kicked him out. They remained friends with a few benefits. But unlike the sweeter romantic-comedy version, Harry doesn't run through the cold streets of New York on New Year's Eve to confess his forever and undying love to Sonja. They don't kiss at midnight. They don't end up happy-ever-after with confetti bursting around them. Sonja and Harry don't end up together at all. Instead they end up at my birthday party in what is probably the most awkward pre-engagement engagement since. . .well, since George tossed a Jennifer Miller bag to Cody and said, "Hey, we're getting hitched!" As you know, I wasn't born yesterday. And from what I can see all on social media neither were any of you. Sonja may think she's Blanche DuBois, but she's no Vivian Leigh, and while Harry may be a charmer -- he ain't no Marlon Brando. They are not Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal. They are not even Rachael and Ross.
Sonja may have run through the streets of New York chasing Harry (which, she didn't) but then she fell and sprained her ankle, drunk in the same club with Harry and LuAnn and Heather and Jonathan. But I admit, Sonja's version was way better: The charming rogue playboy, the scorned woman running through the streets after a man who proposed to propose to her. She was trailing drama and a fishtail longer than a four-act play. The only thing, is that it wasn't what happened. Yet, Sonja has no trouble throwing her friend LuAnn under the bus. Implying she had slept with her pre-fiance. Wow.
I Travel Solo
What the hell? I'm not on Team Sonja? I should have known. She did make this clear in the first episode when she thought it was fine to trash talk my career behind my back. And then later when, instead of shutting down gossip about my ex-boyfriend, she fanned the flames (even implying she slept with him). A girl's girl she is not. So, yeah. No. Sonja doesn't want me on her team and that's OK with me. Her team is really crowded. Healers, psychics, facialists, surgeons, acupuncturists, feng shui experts, dog groomers, image gurus. And, of course. . .interns. Me? I travel light.
There is one chick I'd travel anywhere with, though. You know who I'm going to say. Heather! I might not have bought the $9,000 Love Alex bag (although, I'm still craving it) but I would pack a bag to go anywhere with Heather. You would, too. She's the perfect balance of serious, smart and crazy and funny. We shot a cosmetic TV commercial together yesterday and it took us 10 hours to get through four lines because we kept cracking each other up. Also, because we're not actors. Having to walk and talk and hit a mark and open a door proved nearly impossible for me. I suppose that's why we're on a reality show and not Mad Men. Because we don't act. There seems to be a theme emerging.