Something weird happened yesterday. I received an email, forwarded by the owners of our wedding venue, letting me know that there is an open casting call for a new reality show that features gay couples who are in the process of planning their weddings. I laughed at first and forwarded it to Caroline, thinking that the email would allow us to have a fun “What if?” conversation.
Then, I started thinking…
- They offered us a lot of money?
- They picked up the bill for the wedding?
- They sent us on the honeymoon of our dreams?
- We got to be famous?
Suddenly, I saw our future:The show pays us $100,000 for our time and gives us a dream wedding. We win some sort of viewer’s choice contest and they send us on a honeymoon adventure to all the gay-friendly countries around the world. The TV audience loves us so much that we get a feature in People magazine and the network decides that we need our own show, “The Awesomes.” Buffy, Xander, and Callie are signed up for their own spinoff, “Tearing Up the House.” Caroline instantly skyrockets toward her dream career of delivering HIV/AIDS programs and services to African nations. I am able to quit my job and tour the country for free, giving inspirational speeches to gay youth about how amazing I am and how, if you are a good girl/boy, the karmic cycle might send you a smart, kind, little hottie of your own.
So, with Caroline’s permission (it counts even if her eyebrows were raised) I sent our names, pictures, and some information about our relationship to this casting agent. And, wonder of all wonders, he wrote back a couple of hours later with a few questions. I replied and have now waited 24 hours for a response.
As the moments ticked by, I realized that this was a ridiculous exercise in satisfying my own curiosity. The “what ifs” are no where near as important as this guy’s opinion about whether we’re interesting, cute, and worth his time. This fact is very troubling to me. Why hold myself up for judgment from a stranger? Do I actually care what he thinks?
The answer to the last question is “no.” I don’t care. But, I am curious. And, with each minute, I realize that we probably aren’t that interesting. Which actually makes me sad because I know that non-interesting people don’t get reality shows but I think that the American public could use some normal, queer folk in the limelight. We really are just like you, but better.
So, as my short-lived dreams of fame and fortune slowly circle the drain, I leave you with this: if we did get picked, would we/should we do it?
Caroline and I discussed it last night and decided that we wouldn’t change our wedding plans for anything. We would seriously consider going on TV to make money but agreed that, in the end, we would probably chicken out.
What would you do?