Oh, Gaston.

I saw this today and found it humorous.  Cracked me up, actually.

I've always felt a little sorry for Gaston.  I mean, let's be honest.  Taken at face value, he's got it going on.  He's big, and gorgeous. He's strong.  He's a man's man, and he's popular around town.  Everyone seems to adore him or want to hang with him.  He's got this great baritone voice.  Women swoon over him (but it should be noted that those women are of the vapid, a few-crayons-short-of-the-box variety).  So what's the problem?

The problem is that he has got the worst case of narcissistic personality disorder, EVER.  He doesn't actually love Belle.  He wants Belle because he perceives her as the best there is, and therefore, his rightful companion, because he only deserves the best (his words, not mine!).  He doesn't appreciate her for who she is, which is a smart, funny, independent woman. Instead he has visions of tying her down with oodles of children while he tracks mud through her house with his huge smelly feet.  Perhaps, if he had once shown any kind of interest in her life or feelings, things may have been different.  But that's not what Gaston is about.  Gaston is about Gaston.  There's nothing wrong with that, ladies, as long as you understand what you're getting, which is a man who will always put himself first, before your wants, before your needs, before everything and anything that may be important to you.  You will be getting a man who can't ever see your value as a person, because he's too busy admiring the value he has placed in himself.

But, yes, I do feel sorry for him.  He had such potential.  And therein lies his tragic flaw:  an oaf who doesn't know he's an oaf will make a fool of himself in public and never be aware of it.

That being said, he and Belle may have actually made a great team.  Why?  Because she had the worst case of Stockholm Syndrome, EVER!   They would have been one big, happy, dysfunctional couple...Belle, always seeking after something new and exciting, Gaston, not able to provide what she needed...and around and around they would go, until twenty years later, they're sitting in a marriage counselor's office, trying to figure out why the hell the sparks don't fly.  Meanwhile, some large man-animal that lives in a castle has to figure out how to break a curse by himself, because he finally realizes that no one should be responsible for the recovery of his soul but him.  Then, after he does that and learns that loving yourself opens the door to accepting and loving others, he finds this woman from Scotland named Merida, who adores that he allows her to be herself and doesn't place any character constraints on what she can and cannot do.  (Wow, this really got out of hand...sorry)

And they all lived dysfunctionally ever after.