Man Meets Woman … Damn Rom-Coms

Have a need today to write about the “ROM-COM” films. Lately, I’ve been hostage to the darn things. It is so much an obsession that I quote-bold-capital-italic-alized the entire genre above in an attempt to show my dominance over this need to watch the …wait for it …. “man-meets-woman and struggles to tell her he loves her over the objections of close friends – on both sides – who, in the interest of wasting an hour and a half, find out they were wrong in the first place” plot.

I don’t know what it is lately. I scroll down the menu options looking past titles with key words that used to peak my interest. Words in the past prompting a twenty out of my wallet and a manly trip to the theater on a cold, blustery afternoon: Crush, Rambo, Thunder, Fearless, Braveheart, Warrior, 300, War, West, and GODFATHER … to name a manly few. There are many more. Many. Many. More. Please don’t doubt my past masculinity. (please?)

Ah, yes. Here’s one. Or two. Or…. Titles so wonderful. Enlightening. Soulful. I am heart-ful and full of excitement to see these words now-a-days: “Love, Amazing, Together, Incredible, Talking, Experience, Understand, Supporting, Sexy, Feeling, The Truth About You, Time ….. ” I know. I KNOW. If only there were movies like:

  1. “I Understand You’re Feeling Like Murder”
  2. “You Sexy Warrior Dude”
  3. “I’m Feeling Crushed and Excited Love”

So, now here I am. In my mid 50’s choking back tears as ten minutes remain in a flick. The damn dude has screwed up -as usual – a chance at a lifetime of happiness with the girl/woman/hot chick of his dreams. He running through an airport/horse field/museum/traffic jam/hotel/restaurant dodging or running over everyone. She is eagerly oblivious, or, unabashedly aware of the situation: in love with said dude, but confused UNTIL he explains himself ONLY AFTER being completely out of breath. Oh, and all the misinformed, stupid, completely insensible friends stand around hugging themselves in a, sort-of, self congratulatory semi-circle – like they had anything to do with it.

Meanwhile, none of this solved my soppy problem under the cotton throw, crying my eyes out. Every. Single. Time.

The girl is always cute. The guy is always charming. The chemistry always works. The dude-friend is always clumsy, somewhat insightful, but never as smart as the main dude. The babe-friend “can” be spicier than the main girl, but never as sensitive or endearing. The sub-characters such as secondary friends or family?: Never, ever hotter or more captivating than subjects A, B, or C’s.

Wardrobe ranges from the sexiest of lingerie (which, btw, I had to google because I tried four times to spell), to bland bowling shirts, blue jeans, and knickers (THAT I could spell). What they wear in these movies is kinda irrelevant, I guess. What isn’t worn, arguably, could be reason to watch. But, that’s not the point of these movies. They are about the romance and the comedy, not the paleness of a saxophone-in-the-background every ten minutes flick. But, I digress. I’m still an emotional wreck at the end.

One dialectical problem, however. I do skip over English titles. No objection to our British friends. Can’t understand half the nuance, words, or slang. Mumble wouldn’t be an acceptable form of communication in my script writing class had I taken up that career path. No offense to my “Downton Abbey” readers. I did enjoy “The King’s Speech” a few years ago and this may have been my limit.

Anyway, I have been binging on these rom-coms, er.. “ROM-COMS” and they are winning. The seasons of my life are such that November through March are months of quasi-leisure mixed in with sporadic work here-and-theres. April through October are months of go-get-ems and may require (sadly) a hiatus.

Here’s what I figure:

Hollywood churns out movies. No problem there. Past movies available to queue up are, basically, unlimited. Again, no problem. Movies …. check!

A movie lasts one hour, forty-five minutes +/-. Two per day with a half hour break for snacks and “personal time” is a total of four hours. Hours …. check!

Let’s say, at a minimum, eight movies per week through mid-March. That’s about fourteen weeks from now. Weeks … check!

TOTAL: 14 weeks x 8 movies = 112 ROM-COMS !!

That’s 112 eventual couples who, at the beginning don’t know they’re supposed to be together – or do they? – but end up embracing their fate somewhere, surrounded by some people, in a somewhat situation, somehow, supposedly, miraculously finding the perfect parking space just in the nick of time. That’s 112 gorgeous women who always have makeup on in bed and never break a heel running on uneven sidewalks, or, fart at inappropriate times. That’s 112 charming dudes who always have gobs of money but never work, drive expensive cars but never put gas in them, cook but never shop for groceries, pay bills, or just readjust their underwear … not even ONCE!

Yet, here I am considering another again tonight … and another tomorrow…and another … and… well,….I’m being dominated. Man meets woman and I, the hopeless romantic/comedian of the mid-50’s manly-ish world, have been duped into this genre of predictability from which I cannot escape. Geesh. I can’t even get out from under the cotton throw I find myself – even when I need “personal time” bad in the middle of the damn movie – because he NEEDS to find his true love! .. He NEEDS her and doesn’t know it yet!. She needs him. He needs her. It’s also entirely possible I may need some help here … and soon.

Anybody know of a local Rom-Com-Anon group?

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