August 23, 2010

even bondgirls get the blues

Now, supposing you're in the position that you have this high profile job that you can't really talk about. It's not exactly legal and it's not exactly always pleasant business but it pays handsomely and it suits your lifestyle. It doesn't take a lot of skill, just great style, clever wit and social graces, and you're golden.
You don't answer to anybody but whoever is writing you a check with the most zeroes.

You've got your good looks, your Ivy League degree in biochemistry and masters in economics, you've got all the right connections, the right ambitions, multiple citizenship even. You've got a handful of aliases, each one lovelier than the last, not to mention a selective blind eye towards moral ambiguity. You're a sociopath with a heart of gold. And you're doing very well for yourself, thanks very much.

Now here comes this guy who's got an offer you can't refuse-- no really, you can't-- he's very persuasive. And if you're going to be thrust into a life and death situation you might as well partner up with a charming ethnically ambiguous gentleman whose secret agent skills rival his good looks. All of a sudden shit gets real and the world is at stake and it's just the two of you against the bad guys. Which can get very complicated considering there's a distinct possibility that at one point you were one of the bad guys.

Things get very confusing. This isn't what you signed up for! It's difficult enough running in Christian Louboutins, and dodging bullets and heat-seeking missiles doesn't make it any easier. I guess it's not such a bad thing that this handsome notorious operative has got your back then. It could even be fun-- the grown-up type of fun. You can probably anticipate an irreverent lack of protection (unless you count the ankle pistol). Fast-forward through foreplay, and he's not exactly a deviant but definitely a thorough top man who appreciates a bit of rough and tumble. Any disappointments will be amended with a solid eggs Benedict come sunrise.

Now things get super confusing. Unless you're a double agent in which case things are perfectly on course probably. But if you aren't, and they aren't... well this is quite the glamorous pickle, isn't it. The man's married to the job and honey, not even that Herve Leger is gonna get him to give it up. He's a man on a mission and you're just along for the ride.
How deceptive! How perfectly vile! You're not in love but you let your guard down and that's worth something to any woman worth her 401K. And lets face it, you've met many a looker before (smart ones too) but that unattainable quality, well that's just too enticing to ignore. There's no HR department to complain to and there's no going back now.

You're a Bond girl and there are no expectations that your position will accommodate. Occupational hazard, if you will. You can only see the mission through and hope that you don't get outed as a double crosser before you have a chance to confess your feelings (not that you would because Bond girls have pride goddammit) to an unfeeling pillar of machismo and Acqua di Parma. Luckily for you, your attractiveness only benefits from a sexy pout and jealous lady rage.

But alas, a spade will always be a spade. When the world is safe again (for now) and the credits roll, you'll return to your villa in Ibiza not wholly unscathed. Sure, your contributions to this mission proved to be indispensable and there's a Swiss account in your name gaining dividends. But at the same time, you realize you're not a slick as you thought. You're still thinking about this time around and that's unusual for you, isn't it. You got what you thought you wanted and now that you have it, it's just not filling you up.
Ah, the sting of a love that could never even earn its requital. You either want him for yourself or you want him dead-- you and the part of the world that still believes in the axis powers. You want vengeance for your jilted heart. But that vengeance will never be had either because he's kind of indestructible isn't he, and besides-- you may be a bit chilly sometimes but you're certainly not about to indulge such a crime of passion. You're much too practical for that. No promises were made to be broken and nobody said this was going to work out.

Keep your head up, Bond girl, you're still super sexy and rich and smart and stuff. Dudes are totally lining up to date you and let's be real, it's not like it was even the best sex you've had necessarily. Besides, even if things did work out between you, his mortality rate is so much more lethal than any other aristocrat or government official you could date, which would also put your life in mucho danger. I know-- none of this is very helpful or comforting. The fact of the matter is you opened up your heart and it got shat on. Nothing can change that but you'll feel better in a little while. Not even Bond girls are immune to the blues.   

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