Over the weekend, we wrote about how the Royal Wedding was psychedelic, magic, and subversive.
It was a collision of cultures, customs, and Clooneys – and managed to break the Guinness World Record for most references to fire at a Christian wedding by a bishop.
But after the cake has been cut, the last waltz has been danced, and you’ve agreed to honour each other sexually in front of almost two billion humans, reality sets in. And reality for Meghan Markle is a life of restriction and forced diction, of rules so redundant they beg to be broken. Of No-Doz and sensible clothes.
First of all/worst of all, she doesn’t get to bring one of her dogs along. Nope, her beloved rescue dog Bogart was deemed too old to make the trip across to the UK, so instead has been thrust onto a friend, who is no doubt kicking Bogart as I type.
A few things. Bogart is a rescue dog. He thought he landed the jackpot when he was rescued from a kill shelter in Kentucky by a rich television star. What are the odds?
Then, she starts dating a member of the royal family, who would sometimes come over and pat Bogart. Life was on an upward trajectory.
Engaged to be married! Oh my, the romance, the whirlwind of it all, with bags to pack, and plans to make, and and and!
Then, nope.
Meghan and Harry are moving to a palace across the earth, you’re deemed too old though, so you are thrust once again out into the cruel world, and — oh yeah — your only canine friend in the world, another rescue dog named Guy – well, Guy is coming along to merry old England.
Here’s Guy riding with the Queen to the Royal Wedding. Just Guy: in a limo on the way to a wedding in a historical church. With the Queen.
A friend kindly alerted me to a very sweet moment we missed yesterday – the Queen travelling with Meghan's beagle guy spotted by the talented Lainey Gossip https://madaboutmeghan.blogspot.con/2018/05/live-blog-day-before-wedding.html pic.twitter.com/zpQbtg8YeQ
— Mad About Meghan (@MadAboutMeghan) May 18, 2018
And here is the final shot of Bogart you will ever see.
Bogart, during happier times.
But that’s rougher on the dog, moreso than Meghan, I hear you typing in the comments section.
This may be true. Science has not yet let us gauge the true value dogs place on companionship, outside of for hunting purposes, so shhh you.
Bogart will be fine. Meghan will get over leaving her dog by doing her nails, putting on a cute skirt and going out with her friends, right?
Well, unless that skirt is manufactured by the same company that made the uniforms for the boarding schools in Enid Blyton books, that’s a no.
From The Sun: “The Queen is known to disapprove of hems rising over an inch or two above the knee.”
From OK!: “Fake nails or coloured nail polish is deemed vulgar”.
What Hollywood actress doesn’t relish getting style demands enforced upon her by a 92-year-old woman?
What else can’t Meghan do anymore? Well, act, for one. She has given up her entire career: one in which she rose to a permanent role on a popular network TV show. That’s such a rare improbable feat for any actor, and to just throw that away? Suits was an insanely popular show, too, so you’d imagine that — even post-career — she’d be signing autographs all day.
Nope, no longer allowed to do that either. No Royal Family members are permitted to sign autographs, in case someone takes it down to the RTA with a New Idea cut-out and tries to get a fake ID or something.
Well, at least she can leverage the large fan base she built over a fifteen-year career: namely her three million Instagram followers.
Nope, no more Instagram, although she can post any happy, charity-related news on the Kensington Royal social media accounts.
Finally, after hearing all these rules and being worn down to the point where she just wants to retreat to her quarters, collapse on her painfully-tucked-in bedsheets, and drift off to sleep, letting her perfect pretty Princess head be filled with dreams… NOPE.
She has to wait for the motherfucking Queen to “determine the night is over” before anyone can go to bed.
Yup, nobody is allowed to go to sleep until the Queen decides she wants to go to bed.
Every.
Single.
Evening.
‘Til.
Death.
Do.
You.
Part.
Still, George Clooney doesn’t just show up at anyone’s wedding. So maybe it’s not all bad.
