Why I'm dumping George Clooney
What’s not to love?
He has it all. He’s politically correct, witty, speaks Italian, beloved by Brad Pitt and Julia Roberts and all the women I know—who would line up to give him their hand in marriage or their vote for president or their firstborn child.
I was always at the front of that line—and I’ll line up to see Up in the Air. But our personal relationship has run its course.
The break up isn’t what you think—-though I admit that goat movie didn’t help.
And it’s not sour grapes because a woman named Amy Ferris wrote a wonderful book I wish I wrote called Marrying George Clooney. It’s not even sour grapes that Marrying George Clooney might actually happen to that Italian beauty he’s dating. If he does marry her, I hope she gets fat I wish them lots of happiness.
But we’re officially over— due to the oldest reason in the book: I’m dumping him for someone else.
My change of heart has been coming for a long time. And it hasn’t been an easy decision; it’s taken soul searching—and even overcoming some Freudian issues— because George looks like a hip version of my father at that age. And maybe age is the key word here: mine. At this age—and this stage—- I’m all over George— and I’m all about Alec Baldwin.
And not just because Alec also blogs for the Huffington Post (although maybe that would that qualify as meeting cute.)
Back in the day, Alec out-clooneyed Clooney. He was
He never lit my fire. Too slick, too arrogant, too handsome, too Hollywood.
The 21st century model is more my speed. As Alec has GROWN (in so many ways), he’s grown on me, too.
There’s something solid and comforting about a teddy bear of a man. And most movie stars are the opposite. Since the screen adds pounds, this makes George a heavyweight only in star wattage. I’ve never been willing to date a man whose jeans are a smaller waist size than mine.
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