A friend of mine recently turned me on to an Instagram account that posts the dishiest celebrity gossip. She recommended it with a warning: “It will fully take over your nightly reading.” She was right. The first night I had access to the account, I stayed up until 3 a.m. reading outrageous blind item after outrageous blind item. I couldn’t stop. And when I discovered the DMs posted from users rehashing supposedly real celebrity encounters, I felt another rush of dopamine. It was the happiest and most alive I’d felt since the world fell to pieces in the face of the coronavirus pandemic.
Judge me if you want, but I love trashy celebrity gossip. Yes, I’m using the word love here. When the world is normal, I treat it like tequila shots, cotton candy, or listening to Nickelback—fun to indulge in every now and then, but too much will make you sick. Celebrities may have the most privilege human beings can get, but they’re still humans after all—reading about their sordid affairs, debaucherous nights, or allegedly wretched behavior does feel invasive after a while.
But the world isn’t normal right now. We’ve been self-isolating and social distancing for weeks, and people are trying to find joy wherever they can. For some, it’s baking loaves and loaves of banana bread. (I burn simple toast.) For others, it’s doing puzzles. (I would just cheat and force the pieces to fit.) And then, of course, there’s old faithful, a.k.a Netflix. (Sadly, I’ve seen everything, even an episode of that Ashton Kutcher ranch show. Mind you, I’m gay.) So for me, a daily diet of celebrity trash has been my lifeline to happiness. It really is a love affair—a summer fling, if you will. I check in with my celebrity trash like I would a new boyfriend, giving him lots of time and attention. My love life with other humans may be at a complete standstill, but I’m fully in a relationship with other people’s relationship gossip. And I’m head over heels.
To be clear, this is gossip I know is fake and from sources that have as much credibility as the Fyre Festival. I’d say my trash consumption at the moment is—hmmm, well, a lot. It’s certainly more than the time I spend reading actual books or articles. Red, White, & Royal Blue is collecting dust on my nightstand because I’m glued to Twitter, inhaling deranged threads about stars ignoring their fans at restaurants, or hilariously long Instagram Stories about TV actors partying with their neighbors. It’s as much a part of my daily routine these days as brushing my teeth or wearing a mask.
‘ The preceding article may include information circulated by third parties ’
‘ Some details of this article were extracted from the following source www.glamour.com ’
