Poppin’ Molly – We will never be royals
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Sound the alarms and give up all hope of any legitimate news for the next three days: the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge are in the U.S.A.! According to the 15 articles on the front page of Yahoo, William and Kate landed in New York City this past Sunday … and our collective conscience cannot even begin to handle it.
The red carpet has been rolled out for them since the moment they’ve arrived. Last night, they were even spotted having the utmost privilege of meeting true royalty when they were introduced to Beyoncé and Jay-Z at an NBA game in Brooklyn.
What makes Will and Kate so incredibly special? Why all the fanfare? At the end of the day, they’re just a regular couple, right? They love and laugh and fight just like the rest of us. And if my wildest dreams are true, they sing a wicked karaoke duet of “Love Will Keep Us Together” if you get them drunk enough.
If celebrities really are just like us, as I have been led to believe by many an unflattering photo of Jennifer Aniston in Us Weekly, then couldn’t we fawn over any couple? If that is the case, I am petitioning you all: if you’re inclined to bow at the feet of a pasty power couple, why not me and Joel Murphy? It would seem that the allure is less about the actual people and more about the fairytale romance. Well, I can assure you we’ve got loads of romance at the Murphy/Regan household. (We keep it stored in the cupboard with Joel’s and my love letters to Dan Harmon and Amy Poehler, respectively).
The similarities between the royal couple and ourselves are pretty obvious when you think about it. Much like William, Joel is so pale that he burns at the sheer mention of sunlight. Much like Kate, I am constantly being shown up by my much more fabulous younger sibling. And while the two were married at Westminster Abbey, my mother was raised in Westminster, Maryland. We’re practically the same people.
But the true parallels exist in our extreme value of privacy. Just like the British super couple, we keep the most intimate details of our relationship under wraps. Our budding romance remained unconfirmed publicly for four long weeks out of fear of personal invasion. We can empathize quite a bit with Will and Kate. Our love was also the subject of intense speculation and scrutiny. There was a time where it seemed that everyone (mostly the other members of our improv troupe) wanted to know what was going on. Becoming one of the most prominent couples of the Baltimore indie improv community was an overwhelming prospect. We were aware of the risks involved in announcing our romance. The realization that people would disrupt Joel’s natural state of stoic silence to offer words of congratulations was particularly hard for him.
I’ll admit there have been times where, much like the Duchess of Cambridge, I was unsure of my comfort with committing to a man of such notoriety. Sometimes I forget that I’m dating the voice of Hobo Radio. We all know the silky smooth sound of his voice as he introduces us to his good friend Lars every week.
It’s intimidating when, every so often, a casual acquaintance approaches him to say they enjoyed this week’s show. I mean, who are these friendly acquaintances to think they know my man on the same level as a best friend?! It is in these moments that I remember that only I know how his voice sounds when he’s asking whether or not I’m planning to do laundry tomorrow. It’s the same voice that whimpered when I admitted to eating the last pudding cup a few nights ago. Those memories truly do keep me levelheaded.
I know there are some of you who will cry that it’s not the same. They’ll say they’re more important than we are. After all, Will and Kate are blue bloods. It is true that William may have the royal ancestry. But Regan means “little king” in Gaelic, which is a lot closer to the title of King than the Duke of Cambridge will ever get.
I suppose everyone is free to fan girl over whichever couple suits their fancy. But if you’re going to drop $7,500 on somebody’s leftovers, might I ask that you consider our Thanksgiving turkey, which we keep forgetting to throw out.
Molly Regan is an improviser and writer in Baltimore. She likes chicken pot pie, Adam Scott’s butt and riot grrl.
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