When Sebastian Bach wrote about his brief relationship with Christina Applegate in his memoir, he probably didn't expect to be issuing public apologies. But that's exactly what happened after Applegate expressed hurt over the revelations in her own new memoir.
"I apologize for having hurt" Applegate, the former Skid Row frontman told People, acknowledging that his account of their 1990s fling didn't consider how she might feel about those stories being made public.
This is becoming a pattern: the memoir wars. As more celebrities from the '80s and '90s write tell-all books, they're discovering that the same stories look different depending on who's telling them. And when multiple people write about the same relationship or incident, someone's version inevitably contradicts - or wounds - someone else's.
The question at the heart of these conflicts is thorny: who gets to tell the story of shared history? Bach lived through his relationship with Applegate just as much as she did. Does she have veto power over his memories because they involve her? Or does he have the right to share his perspective, even if it's different from hers?
Complicating matters is the fact that Applegate has been through hell recently. She's been publicly battling multiple sclerosis while continuing to work. She revealed deep personal struggles in her own memoir. Reading someone else's version of your young adulthood while you're dealing with a degenerative illness probably hits different.
Bach's apology seems genuine - he didn't have to issue one at all. But it also raises questions about what we expect from celebrity memoirs. Are they supposed to be carefully vetted accounts that protect everyone involved? Or raw, unfiltered perspectives that might occasionally step on toes?
The reality is probably somewhere in between. You can tell your truth without being cruel. You can share your perspective without diminishing someone else's pain. It's a hard balance to strike, especially when you're writing about relationships from 30 years ago.
