How Depressed Do You Have to be to Want To See Nights in Rodanthe?
Okay, so I’m not saying that my marriage is the world’s greatest or anything. Mr. Pop Rocks and I have our bitter moments, our mean-spirited spats, our drunken fist fights. (Just kidding about the mean-spirited spats part.)
Anyway, what I’m saying is we’re certainly not perfect.
But here is my question. How fucking depressed do you have to be, and/or how completely shitty does your love life have to be, for you to want to go see Nights in Rodanthe with Diane Lane and Richard Gere?
So far as I can tell from the commercials, Nights in Rodanthe is about a woman who is totally lonely and depressed, and she goes to some beach house, and she makes out with Richard Gere. And there’s a soundtrack most likely starring Jewel or some shit like that.
It’s like Bridges of Madison County Part Two: Electric Boogaloo.
Who watches these films? What women go to these movies? Am I, like, a traitor to my gender for literally laughing out loud when I see the ads for these cinematic events?
I guess someone must go to see them. Someone went to see Made of Honor. Someone else went to see Definitely, Maybe. And I’m sure a whole lot of someones went to see 27 Dresses. I know my mother went to see Sandra Bullock and Keanu Reeves in The Lake House. I believe The Notebook was very hot at the box office. And apparently Reese Witherspoon made a movie called Just Like Heaven which also was quite popular.
But I didn’t go see them.
I believe in romance. Granted, I believe in romance sparked by a couple of G&Ts. But it’s romance nonetheless. I believe in sweet nothings, and star crossed lovers, and maybe I even believe in running in the rain after a man who you know is your one and only yet will not give you the time of day. (I’m not saying I’ve ever done such a thing, but I could see how such a thing could be done.)
At any rate, what I’m getting at is I like a nice romantic gesture from time to time. And as far as escapism, I’m the first to settle in with a tub of ice cream and a Lifetime television murder of the week/eating disorder cheerleading flick. So it’s not the escapist part that I don’t understand.
It’s just that I can’t wrap my head around why someone would pay $10 to see Diane Lane and Richard Gere make out by the beach when they could masturbate for free to Skinemax.
Call me crazy!
-- Jennifer Mathieu
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