Why We Hate Chick Flicks

Contrary to what some may believe, "romance" is not a marriage proposal on the Eiffel Tower surrounded by an army of Scientologists. This is what we call "fantasy."

Fantasy is played out in many forms, with the story usually ending happily ever after. But, in reality, successful love stories take a great deal of work and effort (and are not usually penned by Helen Fielding or Candace Bushnell).It's not just "girl kisses toad, toad transforms to prince, prince marries princess and they spawn their own reality show."

Okay, so it worked for Brigitte Nielson and Flavor Flav, and their fine pimp, VH-1. But the rest of us are not living in the land of fairy tales, or fifteen and a half minutes of fame, and we never have been. That's the illusion. The illusion that "one day my prince will come and rescue me from all my duties and complete me." Yawn. This is the delusion that destroys relationships before they begin.

Chick flicks, and the cheesy actors that make them go round, perpetuate this syndrome and make it nearly impossible for a regular Joe to live up to these expectations. So why would we ever want to take you to one of these movies? Just so we can sit there watching the bar rise before our eyes, while slowly sinking in our seat, dreaming of the popcorn scene from Diner? (Um, no butter with that popcorn, please.)

You're killing us here. We cannot compete. And, with the over abundance of chick-lit and chick-TV, to go along with chick flicks, we're completely overwhelmed. That's why many of us choose to throw in the towel before the mating game even begins -- and sometimes we just use it to wipe up with after we're done with our porn.

Am I saying that guys only want one thing? Well, um, no, not entirely. But it's a lot easier for us to fall back on our fantasies once you're so enmeshed in yours.

The truth is: men do fantasize about sex. A lot. But once we've had to sit through a two-hour romantic "comedy," and we've seen the obstacle course the suitor has to complete, we're not exactly sure if it's all worth it, i.e., Do we really need to do all that for you to put out?

Sure, we'll get married after you put out, but for now…


The second reason we don't like chick flicks is because we don't want you to think we're pussies. Yeah, yeah, we've seen your personal ads at match.com and gothicmatch.com, and we know the first thing you're seeking, after "a sense of humor/or neck you can bite," is "a man in touch with his sensitivity."

Oh boy, is this a trap. Sure, if you're cute and cuddly like Bon Jovi, and you play power ballads, you're good to go. But for Regular Joe, you see us weep and you're out the door in the time it takes us to say: "tissue, please."

It happened in my own life. Boy cries, woman walks out door and wastes no time in leaving me for a man she later described as "a rock." The fact is, many of us, by conditioning, are rocks. And ladies, if you think you can teach a rock a new trick, by dragging him to the latest Bridget Jones Diary, you're wasting your time, and you should probably just opt for in-vitro.

From the time we're little boys, we are pretty much told to "suck it up" and deal -- without the girly man tears. Nope: a man doesn't cry. A man doesn't show emotion. Unless, of course, he's a raging jerkaholic, which is acceptable by male standards. But not crying.

So stop trying to drag our lazy asses to the lasted weep-fest, and get the image out of your head of us riding in on our stallion, with our army of Scientologists following in their Escalades, and rescuing you from the reverie you are caught up in.

Once you can actually go beyond that dream, and stop trying to "fall in love," is when a new door opens up -- it might even lead to the multiplex and a new kind of film: "Damn, Girlfriend, I Gotta Say Goodbye to My Inner Katie Holmes."

"Why We Hate Chick Flicks" is from an ongoing series titled: The Guy Report.

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