What A Girl Wants?...That Guy.

My favorite chick flicks are He’s Just Not That Into You, How To Lose A Guy In Ten Days, and John Tucker Must Die. What does that tell you? I hate chick flicks…Hate them with all my soul. Scary movies and thrillers are more my speed. Why? Well there’s a perfectly logical explanation for this. Chick flicks make me sad about my life…especially when they have happy endings. Scary movies always leave me feeling better about my life…especially when they have horrible and disturbing endings because no matter how bad it gets, I know my life will never be THAT bad…Hopefully. Chick flicks don’t do us any favors, people. They give us unrealistic expectations. People don’t fall in love like that. It just doesn’t happen. Hate to break it to you, girls. Chivalry and fairytales are dead…Not because they are no longer possible, but because we have learned to lower our expectations. They’ve been replaced with awkward situations, disappointments, lost opportunities, and not being able to say what you need to say when you need to say it. The movies make it look so easy when in real life, love is a royal pain.

            So, you’re probably asking where this rant is coming from? Well, this morning, against my better judgement, I was watching What A Girl Wants. I think the title of this movie is funny because if you ask Amanda Bynes what a girl (her character) wants, she’d say that she wants to find her birth father in England and hopefully fit in with the royal society. But for me, this movie is all about Oliver James. That’s right, I just undermined the entire plot. If you ask me what a girl wants, I will say “him” without hesitation. I mean, look at him. He’s super attractive, has a British accent, drives a motorcycle, sings/plays guitar, and he’s SENSITIVE. In my experience, guys aren’t like that ever. I mean, seriously, are you ever going to meet a guy who will look you in the eyes and ask you “Why are you trying so hard to fit in when you were born to stand out?” Really.

 I don’t mean to be super negative, but that’s just how I see it. Chick flicks will give you that warm, fuzzy feeling when you’re living vicariously through the main character, but once the end credits are rolling to the tune of a love song, you come to the realization that that will never happen. So I’m going to stick with scary movies. Because as the end credits are rolling to the tune of a smashing piano, I will come to the conclusion that if I never watch a cursed video tape with nightmarish images on it, Samara will not crawl out of her well and through my TV to end my life. Just something to think about…