Unromantic Notions

Ah, the crossroads of love. At one time or another, every couple arrives at them, no matter how perfect a pair they might seem. Hollywood has always sold us on the idea that a person will ultimately find his or her perfect mate and live happily every after. Usually, the story goes that two people either can't see the perfect love right under their noses or must overcome enormous obstacles; either way, they come together in the end. Then we grin with appreciation and the knowledge that they'll go on to get married, have 2.75 children and achieve some kind of professional success once they're able to tear themselves away from each other.

For the last 15 years, Meg Ryan has been the romantic comedy idol playing the quirky girl who thought she'd never find the right man, only to achieve perfect, everlasting love in the end. In reality, Ryan shacked up last year with a hunky, brutish Australian before divorcing her womanizing actor husband.

This is the sort of thing that happens all the time in the entertainment world: Mass-produced fictions sell us a romantic ideal, while the people who act out those fictions on-screen or in song lead lives of emotional torment just like the rest of us. And in both cases, we eat it up. Last week, all the gossip columns were aflutter with stories and rumors after an US magazine story alleged that the Britney Spears/Justin Timberlake corporation had dissolved—a rumor that their publicists immediately defused.

What bothers me here is the absurdity of this "dream" pairing in the first place. For starters, there are the allegations that Britney is Justin's beard. Granted, there's no proof of Timberlake's homosexuality, save for the rampant stories in New York gossip columns about how Justin and Britney like to hit the local gay dance clubs together when they're in town. If Justin is in fact gay, he has every right to keep it private. At the same time, by coming out, he could be providing some inspiration for teenage boys, instead of serving as a faux sex object for teenage girls. As many a single adult woman can confirm, there's nothing worse than finding out that a man who feels comfortable wearing white leather pants in public and loves to go dancing may not be interested in you.

Timberlake's sexuality may be up for grabs, but either way, I don't buy for a second that he'd be dating Spears for this long if she really is a virgin. More importantly, I don't see how all the PR about Spears' chastity lends any credibility to her public image. After all, no one expects two people in their early 20s with that much money and freedom to be sitting around holding hands watching Meg Ryan movies together.

But since Britney repeatedly likes to stress that she's a virgin and that she's just a normal girl like any other, we can only assume that she and her partner must be finding some kind of outlet for their sexual urges. Now, I ask you this: Is there really anything more pure or chaste in those particular, um, outlets—with all their attendent forms of nakedness, rubbing and stickiness—than in regular, monogamous intercourse? Maybe that's what she really means by "not a girl, not yet a woman."

There's no reason to bash the homosexual/virgin pairing, though, because it may end up being more successful than most heterosexual relationships—at least judging from the latest celebrity match-ups, most of which sound like they'll end up in tears, or at least some kind of hefty cash settlement. Charlie Sheen, for instance, has found "love" with "actress" Denise Richards. Or at least he's found someone to dress up in cheerleading outfits for him, just like Heidi Fleiss' hookers used to do. Actually, Richards may not be as empty-headed as her acting résumé would lead you to believe: She's got Charlie nailed with a prenuptial agreement that if he cheats on her, she pockets a cool $4 million and walks on. This is, of course, reminiscent of last year's Douglas/Zeta-Jones arrangement, but inflation has quadrupled the stakes. It just brings a tear to your eye and warms your heart, doesn't it?

But hey, even celebrities make bad choices when it comes to love. Take Geri Halliwell, a.k.a. Ginger Spice. Since her Spice Girl days, her solo career has floundered, but she remains a popular and attractive celebrity in the U.K. And give her a little bit of credit for having the sense to jump the Spice ship before it capsized. So you'd think she'd have a plethora of decent, eligible bachelors to choose from. But no, she's dating Eminem. You heard me right: Eminem is dating a Spice Girl. I can certainly see the attraction for her—the murder ballads he wrote for his ex-wife, his delightfully opportunistic drug-addicted mother, the knee-jerk homophobia, the self-destructive streak. He's got to be like her soul mate or something.

Nicole Kidman and George Clooney, on the other hand, have learned that celebrity coupling just isn't worth it. The pressure of two egos competing for both relationship control and media face time can be a real drag. So they've now chosen to date mere mortals. Kidman's been seen around Sweden—where she's making a Lars von Trier film—on dinner dates with a production assistant. Clooney, currently in Canada directing Confessions of a Dangerous Mind, has one-upped her populism by dating a waitress.