If I was on MTV’s “A Shot At Love With Tila Tequila,” I’d totally win.
I’m hardly unique. Everyone thinks they’re the one destined to be with Tila – she’s intoxicating.
Guess what? Everyone else is wrong.
I can make Tila feel things no woman’s ever felt before. I can do things to her with a flyswatter and a jar of Nutella that would make giving a grandmother a lap dance look tame.
I would be her muse. I would never, ever judge Tila. I would nurture her carefree spirit and allow her to be herself.
I would be her safe space.
What I’m saying is I care about Tila. I want her to be happy.
So she can have her shot at love.
She can pick one of the lucky contestants on the show. It doesn’t bother me.
They get the chance of a lifetime. I get this stupid column. We’re both winners – except when they win, they have sex with a bisexual bachelorette. When I win, my editor doesn’t hit me betwixt the shoulders with his shoe.
I can handle that. I’m a gracious winner. And I can live without Tila, that is, if you can call life without Tila living.
I have a confession to make, though – before this week’s episode, I had no idea who the hell Tila Tequila was.
I discovered Tila when my editor dropped a thought bomb on me. “A Shot At Love With Tila Tequila,” he proclaimed, “is innovative and edgy.”
I hid my reservations well. I didn’t ask him why anyone would want to date Tila Tequila or why being with her would be a prize. I’m a professional journalist – trustworthy, thin and unbiased in every way. My readers depend on me to not only tell them what’s going on but how to feel about it.
So I gave Tila a chance, and – although she’ll never know it – she gave me the real Shot At Love.
Don’t look down on me because of my pop-cultural tardiness. It shouldn’t matter how long it took me to get here – let’s just celebrate that I’ve arrived at all.
I may be behind the times, but I’m not completely clueless. I’d heard whispers of a MySpace.com celebrity around the water fountain at work. Rumor spoke of a woman using the social network as more than just a way to broadcast her terrible taste in music.
One woman realized MySpace could be the firmament upon which the fortress of celebrity is built.
One woman dared to dream. Her name? Tila Tequila.
And now that I’m here, I’m sold.
I know what Tila’s selling, and I need more. While it’s easy to get lost in her allure when you’ve invested in the weekly emotional train wreck, the formula is simple.
Just watch “A Shot At Love With Tila Tequila: The Hangover,” and you’ll see it, too. Despite the laughter and tears, life lessons are learned by all.
This week Amanda was booted off. Although I’d just met the Glamazon, I was devastated. I’m OK now – Amanda needed to lose. Only in defeat could Amanda give us the moral of the Tila Tequila story: “I have fake boobs, fake eyelashes, fake everything,” she said. “But when you’re real on the inside, people respond to that.”
And that’s what A Shot At Love is about – authenticity. Reality, if you will.
Despite all of the prefabrication and prevarication inherent in filming a reality show, all of them boast moments of pure truth. While A Shot At Love is completely contrived, the contestants – and Tila herself – are feeling something completely real despite everything. I see Tila Tequila for what she is – a hentai cartoon made flesh. Tila is the closest thing real life gets to an absolutely artificial celebrity.
Other celebrities have tried this before, so the attempt is anything but unique.
Tila’s different, though. Tila’s succeeded by turning herself into the essence of celebrity – a celebrity who is famous because she is a celebrity.
Everything Tila does is a desperate cry for help, a plea to be special. Tila wants to be something to somebody, but she’ll settle for being anything to everybody. Just look at her MySpace page, her music and her nude modeling – no one would care about any of it if she weren’t already famous.
More importantly, watch her show on MTV. It’s obvious. Everything about Tila Tequila is constructed, except for her desire to be loved.
It’s real, just beneath the surface. It’s inside her.
People respond to that. I did.
I just hope she accepts my friend request on MySpace.
—-Contact Neal Hebert at [email protected]