Shannon Tweed Reveals Real-World Issues on 'Gene Simmons' Family Jewels'

Part of the appeal of star-based reality shows is that viewers like to see what our favorite celebrities are like in a relatively unscripted setting where, theoretically, anything can happen. We enjoy pondering the notion that these stars lead normal lives, and it's not too hard to project ourselves into their shoes. If we're honest about it, another part of the shows' appeal is the opportunity they afford to engage in a little voyeurism as we gaze into the lives of folks who really are different from us. Every once in a while, though, all pretenses of a celebrity lifestyle are pushed off the screen by scorching personal crises that remind us of the ultimate humanity of our idols, regardless of how glitzy they may seem. As Season 7 of "Gene Simmons' Family Jewels" kicked off in early June, the rocker and his longtime life-mate, Shannon Tweed, suddenly became very real, and the barrier between "us" and "them" lost some of its fortitude.

In the season opener of A&E's popular reality series, Tweed comes to a turning point that many fans have reached in their own lives, or have seen play out in their own families. With daughter Sophie's departure for college, Tweed and Simmons find themselves living alone in their home for the first time in more than two decades, and Tweed finds that she can no longer sit on the thorny cushion that she's built over that time period. Ostensibly spurred on by a recent photo of Simmons with two other women, Tweed's simmering emotions break through like the noxious gases that have been building in that old hardboiled egg in your vegetable drawer for months, just waiting to be bumped the next time you bring home a bag of carrots. The fallout has left her future with Simmons in doubt and spurred a lot of fan buzz.

In clutching her release valve, Tweed lets viewers in on part of the secret to making a Hollywood "marriage" last (Tweed and Simmons are not legally married): you suck it up and stay together for the sake of the kids. How many times have you heard that same sentiment in real life? It can be debated whether this altruistic view of gutting out a tough relationship is healthy for anyone involved, or whether it is even altruistic at all, but the fact remains that Tweed and Simmons now fall squarely into the same bucket of humanity as Bob and Sarah down the road, or Mom and Dad back home or even Mr. and Mrs. Us in the mirror. The jewels of celebrity have been pushed aside, and all that's left is a struggling relationship, the likes of which we can see all around us any day of the week. It doesn't matter that Simmons may have stepped out with groupies. What matters is that he may have stepped out. It doesn't matter that Tweed can go to work on a movie set each day. What matters is that she has tough decisions to make when she gets home.

Can Tweed and Simmons survive the life crisis they're now facing? It's hard to say, but it's almost certain that the texture of their relationship, and, consequently, of their television show, has changed forever. We may flock to "Family Values" for awhile like vultures to the scene of a deer-Freightliner fight, but our appetites will soon be dulled. After all, if we really want to see this kind of reality, we can see it live, everyday, all around us.