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It's hard being a member of one of the most notorious families in the country.  There are so many (bad) expectations that you're expected to live up to, and you wouldn't want to disappoint your public now, would you?

It's difficult, having a family like mine.  I found out via Perez Hilton that my fifteen-year-old sister went out drinking with some famous friends and as a consequence is now three months pregnant.  She won't tell us who the father is.  I found out on a gossip site that my mother and father had both had an affair with the gardener, although that was so much of a cliché that I should have figured it out for myself.  But then, on the other hand, that site also claimed that I had slept with Paris Hilton, Jennifer Love-Hewitt and the Olsen twins in one night, which couldn't have been further from the truth.

As the third son of this tumultuous family, I had something of a reputation to live up to.  My older brothers were known for dealing drugs and directing lesbian pornos, and so it was decided – without my input, might I add – that I was to be the womaniser (admittedly more tame, I think you'll agree).  Most twenty-one-year-olds would jump at the chance to sleep with beautiful women with no strings attached, but not me.

It's surprisingly strictly thought out, how you appear to the media.  When I stopped being the precious baby of my parents and was allowed into the media, there were serious talks about a 'suitable' reputation for me.  I agreed to the terms reluctantly, craving some attention that my parents had been too busy to give me.  Ours was a family that lived our lives in the public eye, but we still had our secrets.

"You're gorgeous, Stanley, so of course you'll get plenty of attention," my mother told me over a glass of Merlot, "but listen to me.  If a guy comes up to you and asks you out or anything, you'll walk away and pretend you're straight.  Do you hear me?"

I think something in me broke that day.  Alas, I didn't want to disappoint my mother and agreed.  So many genuine, lovely guys tried talking to me, and I had to ignore them, instead focussing on the sluttiest girl I could find; they'd all go to bed with me because I was 'famous'.

Recently, I've taken to buying their silence.  Sometimes, someone will come along, and you'll just know he's the one.  You'd cut the crap and give anything to be with this person, even if it means bribing girls to say you've slept with them just so your family won't hate you.  He will understand that you'll stop caring what your family thinks in your own time, and will support you when you need it.

It's hard being a member of one of the most notorious families in the country, but it's not like I could make their reputation any worse.

Description
It's hard being a member of one of the most notorious families in the country.  There are so many (bad) expectations that you're expected to live up to, and you wouldn't want to disappoint your public now, would you?

It's difficult, having a family like mine.  I found out via Perez Hilton that my fifteen-year-old sister went out drinking with some famous friends and as a consequence is now three months pregnant.  She won't tell us who the father is.  I found out on a gossip site that my mother and father had both had an affair with the gardener, although that was so much of a cliché that I should have figured it out for myself.  But then, on the other hand, that site also claimed that I had slept with Paris Hilton, Jennifer Love-Hewitt and the Olsen twins in one night, which couldn't have been further from the truth.

As the third son of this tumultuous family, I had something of a reputation to live up to.  My older brothers were known for dealing drugs and directing lesbian pornos, and so it was decided – without my input, might I add – that I was to be the womaniser (admittedly more tame, I think you'll agree).  Most twenty-one-year-olds would jump at the chance to sleep with beautiful women with no strings attached, but not me.

It's surprisingly strictly thought out, how you appear to the media.  When I stopped being the precious baby of my parents and was allowed into the media, there were serious talks about a 'suitable' reputation for me.  I agreed to the terms reluctantly, craving some attention that my parents had been too busy to give me.  Ours was a family that lived our lives in the public eye, but we still had our secrets.

"You're gorgeous, Stanley, so of course you'll get plenty of attention," my mother told me over a glass of Merlot, "but listen to me.  If a guy comes up to you and asks you out or anything, you'll walk away and pretend you're straight.  Do you hear me?"

I think something in me broke that day.  Alas, I didn't want to disappoint my mother and agreed.  So many genuine, lovely guys tried talking to me, and I had to ignore them, instead focussing on the sluttiest girl I could find; they'd all go to bed with me because I was 'famous'.

Recently, I've taken to buying their silence.  Sometimes, someone will come along, and you'll just know he's the one.  You'd cut the crap and give anything to be with this person, even if it means bribing girls to say you've slept with them just so your family won't hate you.  He will understand that you'll stop caring what your family thinks in your own time, and will support you when you need it.

It's hard being a member of one of the most notorious families in the country, but it's not like I could make their reputation any worse.