I recently saw two ridiculous romantic comedies: “No Strings Attached” and “Love & Other Drugs.” Don’t laugh. I was on a plane.
With few exceptions, I am really not a fan of the rom-com, and the word “ridiculous” goes along with them more often than not.
These flicks I find to be horribly irresponsible, if not downright insulting, because they send this general message to women: With the love of a good woman, a jerk will magically transform into a relationship-minded prince who worships the ground you walk on.
Haw. Haw. Oh, that’s a good one.
On the surface level I’m sure most women are aware that these storylines are fiction and yes, we realize real life isn’t actually like that. But we’ve seen this same theme time after time since we were wee little girls, so subconsciously, we wonder why we’ve been hanging on the corner of Hollywood and Vine all these years and still no Richard Gere.
These films have been setting women up with false expectations since the beginning of time (before the rom-com, of course, there were fairy tales), but the two aforementioned movies took on and effectively idealized a relatively new phenomenon in the world of dating and relationships: the fuck buddy.
The central premise was essentially the same in both films: Boy and girl mutually agree to embark on a friends-with-benefits only relationship — but lo-and-behold, chemistry abounds and after a few mind-blowing rolls in the hay, the boy wants more.
That’s right, the boy wants more. The girl does not.
Oh, heavens to Murgatroyd! Where do they come up with this stuff?
Now, I am not saying it is impossible for a guy and a girl to be sex friends and sex friends only. Happens all the time. But how often does the man actually fall in love with the woman in such a situation?
I am not one to say never, but I will say hardly fuckin’ ever. Especially when he looks like Ashton Kutcher or Jake Gyllenhaal.
If anything, the reverse is likely more common. But, naturally, they couldn’t make a movie based on a girl falling for her fuck buddy, because that would just be too much like real life and, in a word, pathetic.
So these movie executives peddle this pie-in-the-sky fantasy to the public, which an innocent teenage girl sees and believes that maybe if she become fuck buddies with the hot guy, she’ll win him over with her irresistible wit and sex appeal. Hell, Anne Hathaway had major bags under her eyes the whole time and Natalie Portman had the personality of a lamp — so if they could do it, so can I, dammit!
See what I mean by irresponsible?
I don’t feel it’s much of a spoiler to reveal the obvious ending to both stories: after much ado, the pair realize they are meant for each other and their souls merge in a state of lovey, gooey bliss. Fin.
And that’s where the filmmakers leave us, with the assumption that the couple remain in that state, happily ever after. But I’d like to explore what might in actuality happen after the script is shoved in a file and the cameras are shut off…
What happens next: No Strings Attached.
After professing their undying love for one another, Natalie Portman and Ashton Kutcher begin going out on real “dates.” However, being that he’s just a lowly production assistant, Ashton can’t afford much more than Koo Koo Roo. Then when his boss rejects his new scripts, he turns to the bottle. This peeves Natalie, a young doctor, and to top it off, she hates chicken. On the flip side, Ashton discovers that Natalie’s cold bitch persona, while once viewed as a hearty challenge, is now just plain annoying. They bicker and the sex turns lukewarm. Suddenly, that yuppie doctor at the hospital starts looking pretty damn good to Natalie, and Ashton steals off behind the set with the nerdy chick with the nice rack at work.
What happens next: Love & Other Drugs.
Once it is decided they can’t live without one another, bad boy Jake Gyllenhaal and “I can take care of myself” Anne Hathaway move in together. Anne’s Parkinson’s progresses to stage 2 and Jake gets embarrassed when he takes her to work galas and she spills wine all over his colleagues during a bout of the crazy knees. “I turned down a steady stream of pussy for this?” he begins to ask himself. Meanwhile, Anne can sense Jake’s unrest, so she sleeps with his chief client, Dr. Dickhead. Jake can’t believe she beats him to the punch, so he pops a couple Viagra and sets off on a weekend-long bender in the underground sex clubs of Pittsburgh.
How’s that for some sequel action? What say you, Fox 2000 and Paramount Pictures? Do us women folk a proper and stop selling us a fucking pipe dream. Kay?
Categories: In My Most Excellent Opinion