Happy endings

The scrappy little mutt finds his way home. The Death Star is destroyed and peace reigns in the galaxy. The bad guy gets what’s coming to him. And of course, my favorite: The good guy gets the girl.

Books and movies oughtta have happy endings, don’tcha think?
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Editorial note: Just in case, upon reading the title of today’s blog you were thinking “Whoa boy! This is gonna be GREAT!” I am sorry to say we will not be covering that particular brand of Happy Ending today. We here at HedyBlog strive to keep things family-friendly in spite of the occasional fuck-knob and what-not.

Ahem.
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Here’s why happy endings are on my mind: I finally finished ‘The Birth of Venus’ late Friday night.

Like I said before, it’s a fabulous story. Right up ‘til the last 20 pages and then I wanted to throw it out the fucking window.

Spoiler warning: If you plan on reading this book please skip to the next section or two now.

Our intelligent and unconventional heroine meets a guy – a very talented artist. They fall in love. They fuck just once but it’s off the charts fabulous.

Somehow she ends up marrying another guy (a ‘sodomite’ – I love, love, love that word for some crazy reason) and everything’s all wrong for a long time. Near the end of the story she finally hooks up with her artist guy again but – get this – she chooses to stay in a convent rather than living out the rest of her days blissfully screwing the love of her life.

There’s a bunch of other Very Important Stuff going on in the story – art, religion, history, the Medicis, the bonfire of the vanities, etc.

And that’s why I’d still recommend the book. It’s fascinating from a historical perspective. But the ending sucked major ass.
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He’s right there – the guy she’s been longing for practically her whole life.

And she says “Nah, I think I’m just gonna stay here, married to Christ, and die in these uncomfortable boring clothes surrounded by uptight praying chicks instead.”
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And they lived happily ever after.

That’s what we want in stories. Because that’s not the way it goes in real life.

The people we love eventually leave us. Bad, stupid things happen and nobody seems accountable. And of course there are no fairy godmothers.

If we could choose happy endings for ourselves, why wouldn’t we?
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I know, I know.

Good stories don’t always have happy endings, that’s what makes them so good. Or true to life, anyway.

Maybe that’s why I didn’t like the ending of The Birth of Venus – because in spite of the fact that it’s fiction, it just didn’t ring true.
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I am listening to: Boats & Birds – Gregory and the Hawk
I am reading: Portrait of a Lady by Henry James
And I am: Hoping for a happy ending