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By Savannah Haze Date: 2002 Jul 22 Comment on this Work [[2002.07.22.23.13.10688]] |
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Hollywood ruined my love life. Damn you Dirty Dancing. Damn you Meg Ryan. Damn you all you sappy crappy Lifetime movies my mother subjected me to as a child. "Real" men don't dance and they could care less if you put your nose in the corner. No one is that bubbly and you don't always get the guy and when you do he's rarely one that you hated or met over a radio program and heaven knows he won't be an angel. When is the last time a guy took my face in his hands and kissed me? When was the last time anyone ran to me and embraced me in the rain? When was the last time that I met a handsome stranger, fell in love and married him in 2 weeks? This is the really real world. A world of burps and farts and addiction to electronics and racing to non-simultaneous orgasms. I've been walking around for years, blaming you guys for not touching me right or not knowing exactly the right button to push to make me smile. I expected you to know when I wanted it sweet and romantic and when I preferred down and dirty. Wine me, dine me, but don't expect sixty-nine, at least until after the third date. You are supposed to like my friends, my mother, my pet. Is it childish idealism? Where are those guys that I plastered to my walls? The ones who had it all? Good looks, good hair, brains, common sense, drive, sense of humour, passionate, sensitive, protective? How did I end up with Bob, the sensitive guy who sent me flowers on our one week anniversary but had back hair like a Cromag? Or Jeff who looked like a Greek god but expected me to worship him like one too? And Mark, the man with the job, the Jag and no time for me? Then there was Sam who made me feel like a queen... at least until our clothes were off and I felt like I was in middle school again. There are no perfect men. There are no perfect relationships. And I'm not Meg Freaking Ryan. Maybe I expect too much... ... or maybe guys should watch more movies... ...and less porn. |