Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

Oy vey.

Hey fella, once the man of my dreams. Well, some of your characters. Hey, in this modern world you owe me nothing. You can slink away and be justified. After all, you are just an actor. I am just a fan. 

Before you were you, you made Sparkhouse. You were a standout as John Standring, so very sympathetic. Awww....

Way back, in Inspector George Gently, you were the poetic rebel with your white scarf flying and I believed.

I loved you most as the forthright, proud, brave, supremely intelligent, eminently decent and kind John Thornton in North and South, the man I would most like to marry.


I thank you for folding the churlish, cardboardish Guy Gisborne in Robin Hood into an origami bird of flight. And you were so sexy with it. Sigh and swoon. I actually rooted for you and wept when you died.
 
In the Vicar of Dibley, you were unbelievably sweet and tender,for a rich guy, and that's when the laughing Harry Kennedy and you became a dream boyfriend.

In MI-5/Spooks you were the starved noble spy, tortured in the past, tortured by the past, tortured by the present. Until you became a howling mockery tortured by the writers. Not your fault. A denouement worthy of soap operas written by unintelligent people.

I like the way you moved in Strike Back. I liked the fight scenes. That is all.

And then you became a dwarf. You were good in The Hobbit. Meanwhile, I am getting takeout and hanging with my girlfriends.  The hype about you left me cold.

I learned you had a stylist, I learned you had a press agent, I learned you wanted to go to Hollywood to be a star. I know about your teeth. I saw some of your glamour press photos. I didn't bother with your interviews- same old, same old. I hung out with my girlfriends some more.

Is this Richard, my talented boyfriend, I asked myself?  The one who is taking roles that bore the hell out of me? While others are staying largely in England and churning out myriad, chunky characters that do interest me? I used to think you were a scintillating butterfly- with chunk.

Praise for Chop in Urban and the Shed Crew- an indie I might not watch but maybe I might. Praise for John Proctor in The Crucible even though I hate theatre. The role gives you theatrical street cred but, meh, I'm thinking there's a CV your PR types are checking off.

To the present: Now, now, you are travelling down that ill-fated path for Brits, the dark demon/antagonist- Francis Dolarhyde, the ultimate psycho of Manhunter/Red Dragon fame. Because I want a descent into madness from you, over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again. Because nihilism is your British bag. I can't think of anything more depressing and anything less in which I am interested. A celebration of nothingness and death is not my bag.

I am done.

Aw, you were so cute, so sexy, so full of hellacious promise. So remarkably able to challenge the soul. And then the American demon got to you. And I lost interest. You and I have nothing left in common at this point, so, I hate to say this, but I am breaking up with you.

As your ex, I wish the best for you. As your ex I hope that you get a clue and diversify.  Not terribly romantic, I know. All I can think is, what a waste.

Call me, sweetie, when you get a clue or a role worthy of you. I'll be watching.