I tried to get through Lydia's vlog. Sped through a lot. I will give her this, I think she tried really really hard to not be a dick in this vlog. She goes on and on about the bikini brand that is paying her and the resort, the food, everything. She even pointedly waits for Ali before scarfing her food. Although she can't elegantly wait, she has to moan about waiting. And moan. And moan some more.
The starkest thing that stuck out to me watching the 1.20 hour vlog was this. They were alone, on an island, at a luxury resort. And there is Z E R O affection, zero chemistry, or sexiness between them. If she'd said she was off on holiday with her brother, it would be completely believable. I think they may have had a spark in the early days. Maybe. Ya know, when she was love bombing him, pretending to be into everything he was into. Fitness, eating well, yada yada. Once he put a ring on it, the farce ended, and we're left with this. Two people that are so disconnected, that a sexy villa on the sea cannot make them show even a smidge of romantic affection for one another.
She is now saying "Mon Dieu" about everything. Is this copied from Josephine? Pick a persona Lydia, and please stick to it. It's gotten to the point that the many incarnations of Lydia Elise Millen feel like multiple clones. All different, particularly if you've followed her for years. Goth Emo girl, Ibiza party animal, Fitness barbie, modern Balmain and jeans girl, Equestrian snob fashion victim, simpering Victorian heroine, gardener that never actually gardens or pulls weeds, Rustic loving twit. And now she's in a French woman of a certain age mode. Who does that?? This isn't a natural evolution of a personality. This is like a multiple personality disordered shifting of personalities. Gives me the shivers.
I will take my life over theirs every single time. My DH and I have to earn our keep, pay our way for any niceties we treat ourselves to. We have 2 hormonal teenagers underfoot, a young puppy that is always angling to push his way into everything, and I still would pick an evening in my own home, cuddling on the couch watching mediocre streaming telly over what Ali and Lydia are playing at.
The antonym to "romance" is the Millen-Gordon's marriage.
