Olivia Newton John, the Australian singer, passed away this week and by all accounts she was a class act — gracious, professional, philanthropic. (She left a large part of her estate to cancer research.)
Did you also know Olivia Newton John was once a chump? Her first husband, Matt Lattanzi, screwed the nanny. This was back in the 90s.
According to the Daily Mail:
Olivia Newton-John‘s first marriage ended in heartbreak when her husband ran off with the couple’s young babysitter while the singer was fighting breast cancer.
Dancer Matt Lattanzi split with Newton-John after he was confronted over his ‘very close’ relationship with Cindy Jessup, then 23, during a cancer charity cycle ride.
The Aussie legend divorced him in 1995 and Lattanzi, then 40, married his young lover two years later – but Newton-John refused to be bitter over the split.
‘She’s delighted,’ a friend insisted to reporters at the time of the wedding.
Delighted? Was this said dripping with sarcasm? Was the friend stabbing a small effigy as she spat the words out? Delighted?
Isn’t it enough to co-parent with the guy? To cool-bummer-wow oneself with dignity for the next decade? Must she be elated at their nuptials?
Well, hey, that’s the only way to avoid being tarred with the Bitter brush. Newton-John refused to be bitter over the split.
How about just refusing the shit sandwich of having to comment on your cheating ex’s marriage to his affair partner at all? How about that?
The guy fucked around on her while she was battling cancer. And the onus is on HER to prove she’s the better person for not being BITTER?
Newton-John continued to blame her fight with cancer for what she said was the inevitable end of her marriage, and not her husband’s love for the babysitter.
‘I think our marriage would have eventually come to an end, but it happened sooner because of the cancer, which was a good thing,’ she told the Daily Mail.
Cancer cells can’t help dividing. Your husband can keep his dick in his pants. It’s a matter of choice.
This blaming herself for getting cancer is so incredibly sad. I understand that Newton-John was a public figure, a pretty blonde, a sugary sweet pop singer who probably couldn’t afford righteous anger to tarnish her sweetheart image. But geez.
Imagine the pressure to be good girl Sandy.
Reflecting on her fight to beat the condition, she admitted: ‘I don’t see it as a battle. I don’t think about it a lot, to be honest. Denial is a really good thing and I’m getting stronger and better all the time! I am doing well!…I am feeling wonderful.’
I wish there could’ve been some Rizzo makeover, a black-lycra bad girl Olivia. Who stubs her faux-positivity out with a cigarette and admits, “cancer sucks.”
And being cheated on sucked. And co-parenting with a FW sucked.
She rises above it anyway — because of course she did — but doesn’t have to pretend it was improving, or okay, or wasn’t hard or impossibly sad.
Sexy Sandy with an edge was the better ending.