The Real Housewives of Westend
It’s a state of mind more than a zip code. And admittedly, the type can be found pretty much anywhere, various reality spinoffs pretty much laying testimony enough. Though I have to admit, other than the O.C. version, which I watch somewhat infrequently, I haven’t really watched any others. I’d love to invest time in the New Jersey version, because we lived there for a while, and there’s a New Jersey specimen right here on my doorstep. In this case it’s not a state of mind, Melissa* really is from New Jersey.
I like Melissa, because every time we interact, she brings back New Jersey. I’m not even sure what her precise job description is, but at the end of the day, it doesn’t really matter. I was a teen when we lived there, so memories of crushes, prank calls, watching Jeopardy and Hollywood Squares while running a steady commentary (including the answers) with your best friend are always welcome. To the best of my knowledge, Melissa doesn’t hang out with the other Housewives. Or if she does, I’m not aware of it, though admittedly, we’re not that close. Our interests are worlds apart, and what does give us common ground, isn’t enough to sustain an ongoing friendship. But we always enjoy each other’s company when we run into each other.
The ones who would love to be in Melissa’s inner circle are a different breed. I don’t have anything in common with them, so my observations here might sound a bit catty. I was also lucky, because being from Europe, when I attended school in the States, I could pretty much interact with any and all cliques. I preferred the hippie crowd, because like me they were into the performing arts, but when we lived in The Country I Hate Above All, during my junior high years, my two best friends were the class beauty queen and a very religious girl. They had nothing in common and barely interacted with each other beyond nodding at each other as they boarded the same train to school. But I loved them both dearly and couldn’t choose between one or the other. Guess they fed my Gemini needs, if you’re into that sort of thing.
The Real Housewives of Westend** will put expensive items and brands above everything else. Guided by the maxim that a man does not have to be good-looking as long as he has money, she will stake out her claim accordingly. Knowing that a man is more likely to stick around if there is a mini-me involved, she quickly goes about the task of producing an heir. This way, when the union breaks up, she will at least be provided for.
The Real Housewives of Westend have a heart. They will show this, and make sure you notice, by spreading every sob story they can find around their social networks, especially if it concerns abused, mistreated or abandoned animals. Their love for animals is surpassed only by the love for themselves.
The Real Housewives of Westend are not cursed with being too smart. Brains were never developed, because doing so was not only never encouraged, it was actively discouraged, lest she prove herself to be smarter than any man she eventually hopes to snag. On this mission, brains would only get in the way, so why make any pretense of using them.
The Real Housewife of Westend, once she has snagged her guy and established her position, lives her life in blissful ignorance. And when she does get sad, a quick glance at her diamonds and mental inventory of her material assets will quickly set the world right again.
*Names have been changed to preserve privacy and to avoid libel issues
** I have no beef with Westend. Initially, I’d planned to use another place. But there are too many people described above who actually live there, I chose to go with Westend instead. I feel this disclaimer is in order, lest the lynch mob comes after me.