Ode to an OTALIA Widow…well, almost

My significant other and I have been together more years than the average hetero couple… statistically speaking.  I don’t know if that is a proponent’s statement on the possible longevity of gay marriage or if we just know how to stick it out.   I do know that the new challenge in our many years of bliss is difficult to fight.  I’m afraid I am losing my girl to an ACRONYM.

OTALIA.  I know, it sounds like a character in some Shakespearean tragedy, but the real tragedy is that OTALIA is a soap opera couple.  This is not any soap opera couple, but a pairing of sex siren, Olivia Spencer, and self-martyred matron, Natalia Rivera.  This is the kind of coupling that makes men weep and lesbians lose their collective minds.  I get it, honestly, I DO get it.  Understandably, there is very little representative media out there.  Check out any lez Netflix queue history and you will find any and every badly acted, single camera, Telemundo budget, girl story ever made.  Copies of Imagine Me and You and Saving Face are viewed over and over and over again.  Those have happy endings and no one burns at the end.

That being said, I’m having a hard time accepting the fact that I have been essentially widowed by a soap character.  Damn you Crystal Chapell and your new gal pal Jessica Leccia!  You are VERY attractive women, and I understand the DESIRE to tune in, but this is going too far.  Weren’t all those male conquests enough, Olivia?  What, you ran out of men to play with in Springfield?  I understand, it’s a small town, and instead of recruiting you start playing for the other team.  Ok, but why couldn’t you have just hooked up with Doris?  Granted, OTALIA sizzles, but DOLIVIA is good, too!  Right?  You could have shared hats!  Hey, listen, I’ve got nothing against switch hitters, I used to pitch to a couple myself, but now you’re swinging in MY house!

Our dinner conversations once centered on politics and current events, now they center on spoilers and speculation that OTALIA grow increasingly closer.  That’s kind of hot…but …After-dinner clean-up seems to always include Saran Wrap and barely audible and mumbled commentary on a historical event and plastic wrap.  Huh?  Our nightly routine went from snuggle sessions on the couch to me sitting alone with the dog watching American Idol twice a week and trying to figure out from what planet Paula Abdul crash landed.  My girl is constantly on the computer perusing her “purple” passions and “Google-ing”  OTALIA and any new fix for her now addictive habit.  Her dinging Crackberry is now an instrument of the immediate fix.

Tired of fighting a losing battle I agreed to watch the entire set of clips starting back in October.  I have to admit, it IS pretty good.  That Crystal is a woman I wouldn’t have minded meeting in a former life.  However, I thought I was going to have to sleep on the couch when I said, “If she had a heart transplant, where is her scar?”  Don’t get me wrong, the cleavage is beautiful, but it seems Olivia’s is the only heart transplant done by laparoscope!   Also, why are they always folding laundry?  It’s kind of sweet and innocent and every-day family life in a way, though.  Thinking it must be some kind of aphrodisiac, I saved up a whole week’s worth of laundry and threw it on the couch…uh, nothing.  Nope, not an aphrodisiac…

Then on a recent episode, Olivia’s heart monitor starts beeping and Natalia gets her to the nearest hospital bed.  Tell me, why did Olivia have to have anesthesia to change the batteries in her beeper?  I digress.  Anyway, I took the batteries out of the smoke detector hoping my sweetie would hear the warning sound and whisk me off to the nearest bed…any bed.  She just popped in another 9 volt and answered the ding of her Blackberry.  I can’t win…but wait…

What’s that, honey?  Come snuggle up and watch WITH you?  OK…  Crystal is kinda hot and you know how I like all things Latin.  Wow, I like that little black dress and very nice shoes.  Olivia has a nice voice.  And those eyes, wow, you can see the love for Natalia.  Did you see that look?  And what’s up with that Frank guy, you bake a couple of cookies, have really bad sex, and he falls head over heels.  Frank-furter, what a wiener!  OMG!  Why did you wake up?  Pretend to pass back out, she’s so close you can smell the tuna noodle casserole!  Do you really think she will marry him?  Nat, don’t do it!  Do you think Olivia will stop the wedding?  Did you see that look?  Hey, baby, check your Blackberry, it just went off.  She so wants to take her and …uh, honey, can you go into the kitchen and get me a cookie and, uh, bring the laundry basket…

Whew!  Ladies (and gentlemen), for those of you who feel a little abandoned by your significant other and their OTALIA obsession, I encourage you to tune in together, pull up a little laundry, and watch the whole thing unfold…