I watched the first half of He's Just Not That Into You, undecided as to whether I wanted to throw my arms around Gigi, the main character, and tell her everything would be okay, or slap her in the face in the hopes she'd come to her senses. For those that haven't seen the movie, it's about men and women who misinterpret each other's intentions, and basically go around moaning and groaning that so and so doesn't want what I want and he/she doesn't understand me. Blah blah.
Gigi is a woman desperately seeking love. After each first date, she becomes obsessed with whether her date is, in fact, going to call her, and basically continues to make a complete prat of herself by harassing him until he figures out that she's a nutjob and cuts her off. All the while she fails to realize the simple rule if he likes you he will call. If he doesn't, he won't.
I remember first hearing the line maybe he's just not that into you on Sex In The City. The look on Miranda's face shifted from disbelief and then relief. It was as if a major revelation had been made.
But anyway, back to Gigi. She was really beginning to irritate me. I mean, it's one thing to wonder if your date will call you the next day. But conducting a stare-down with the phone for wasteful hours in the hope it'll ring? Obsessing over last words, in case they really meant I want to spend the rest of my life with you, rather than just it was nice to meet you?
I told J I was getting irritated with Gigi, but he was more concerned with the fact that Scarlett Johansson kept ripping off her clothes and leaping around in swimming pools and things. Off topic but, em, what gives with her figure? Who has that kind of skinniness with big boobs? It's not right. Bitch. (Sorry Scarlett I heart you really.)
Anyway, I kept thinking, no way does an attractive, intelligent woman like Gigi, with a career, an apartment, a life, act so bloody nuts over a man with whom she's been on one date, just because there's a slither of a chance he might be THE ONE.
Is it just me?
I mean, I admit, back when I was dating, ages ago, ten years ago, I observed the usual dating rituals: I shared juicy snippets from last night's date with a friend over coffee; I checked my phone and email frequently for messages; I wondered; I waited; I enjoyed the anticipation and the excitement. Etc. All that stuff. Sure.
But, I like to think that if a guy didn't call me, I'd have enough self respect to say, okay time to move on and not wallow in sadness over someone who doesn't want me.
So to sum up: A simple thing is a simple thing; Gigi needs a slap; Scarlett Johansson should stop prancing around in her underwear because she's making me look bad.