Your life will never resemble a chick flick
Because Christine is one of my good friends, I'm going to give her the benefit of the doubt and say that she was joking. However, I know that many of my fellow females would say that in all seriousness. So here's some things for my girlz!! to consider about their beloved chick flicks:
Dancing in the street isn't romantic, it's dangerous. Oh sure, it seems like a good idea. You're with a cute guy and he's sweeping you off your feet. Next thing you know, you're so caught up in your romantic evening that you don't notice the huge tractor-trailer coming towards you. Hey girls, road kill isn't cute or sexy. Stick to the sidewalks.
The leading man is persistent and you call him romantic, the guy you're dating is persistant and you call the police: Yeah, yeah, we all thought Will Smith was sooo dreamy in Hitch when he wouldn't take no for an answer and planned all of these elaborate schemes to get Eva Mendes to notice him, but if a guy you met at the bar this weekend found out where you work and sent you a walkie talkie so he could ask you out on a date to go jet-skiing, you'd be dialing 911 before you can say "Fresh Prince."
If your new beau is sweet, sensitive, and loves to go shopping with you, congratulations, you've found the perfect man- the perfect gay man: Yeah, he'll go ballroom dancing with you and help you pick out shoes, and maybe he'll kiss you when he's drunk, but eventually, he'll come out of the closet, and he'll probably be wearing the shoes he helped you pick out! And I'm not saying that straight men can't be sweet and sensitive, but come on, ladies, do you really want a guy who's going to constantly talk about his feelings and cry on your shoulder all of the time? The only straight guys I know who keep tissues next to their bed aren't using them to dry their tears, if you get what I mean (lotion, anyone?)
ALZHEIMER'S IS NOT ROMANTIC: I know, it seems like I'm attacking The Notebook more than any other movie, but seriously- the ending of The Notebook was not romantic. There is nothing romantic about Alzheimer's and dimentia. And hey, my definition of a happy ending: doesn't involve two dead people.
In conclusion, girls, give your man a break. He's never going to be Brad Pitt. And do you really want a guy who's going to be running off to help people in South Africa, anyway? Of course not. You want someone who's going to stay close by, someone you can drag to sappy chick flicks and nag on the way home saying things like, "WHY AREN'T YOU MORE LIKE THAT?
Keep an eye out for more on this. Maybe I'll call it AMANDA YELLS AT WOMEN (part 2).
Labels: Bitter Bitching