Men: Take back your lives from Hollywood!

Maybe Clark Gable started it all in Gone With The Wind. Is there a better, I’ll love you to the ends of the earth scene? Ladies, you know which one I mean.

Or maybe it was Humphrey Bogart as Mr. Allnut to Katherine Hepburn’s Rosie in The African Queen. He is, literally, willing to die to save her.

I could research Hollywood for a long time before I figured out where it went so wrong for men.

There are an abundance of movies in the last few decades that have it totally wrong—from Pretty Woman to a film I adore, Love Actually. I wish someone had just once jumped turnstiles to get to me so they could profess their love—even if in this instance it happens with adolescents!

Men, when are you going to rebel and tell the world:

  • We aren’t really like John Cusack in Serendipity!
  • We truly don’t have romance ingrained in us.
  • We do not think of bringing you flowers for no reason.
  • We don’t think of bringing you flowers when we’ve screwed up.
  • If we bring you flowers, it’s because some other woman told us we need to.
  • It’s not our nature to be nurturing—that’s you.
  • We can reach deep inside and find it if we really have to, but honestly, we’d rather watch football.
  • We dwell happily on the surface and if you have expectations of us going deeper, well, we can tell you that’s on Hollywood and the fantasy men they created. It just ain’t us.

Yep, it’s time for a revolution.

My poor husband was so put upon by the pressures of grand romantic gestures connected to proposals, that he held off asking for months. You know me, I finally said: What’s the deal? Are we getting married or not? He admitted his co-workers kept telling him he couldn’t just ask, the event had to be a production.

I looked at him like he had three heads. “Hello, you know me, right?” I’m among the least girly-girls I know.

Men, step up to the plate. Rebel.

Tell the world you won’t be subjected to this nonsense anymore.

Insist that without February 14th designated and shoved down your faces with blazing red hearts everywhere, you would never think to be romantic on that day. I’ve denied the existence of Valentine’s Day for thirty years on behalf of your gender.

Tell the women in your life: give me a shopping list—give me options of what you want for your birthday or Christmas or (the evil) Valentine’s Day. Give me ideas or you may wind up with a mixer (actually, I want a Kitchenaid) or a vacuum (skip that idea). I gave husband a list of several ideas for Christmas—along with appropriate sizes, colors and which stores he could find them in. No pressure on him—still surprises for me. Best Christmas ever. (Love my fuzzy Merrells.)

Storm the gates, my opposite gender friends! Hound MGM, Universal,  even Disney. Let them know you’re done! The revolution is launched! No more selling men out for the sake of a few bucks! Tell them, start showing as you are—

  • We don’t know the right answer to: Does my butt look big in these jeans?
  • We will never like your haircut even though we’ve learned to say it’s okay.
  • We are not, no matter how many times you ask, going to get dressed up in a suit and tie so you can don an evening gown, and take you to dinner at Eleven (my favorite Pittsburgh restaurant—pure Bogey & Bacall ambiance) just for the heck of it.
  • Stop dreaming, women!
  • Hollywood, tell them it just ain’t so!
  • Stop pressuring us!

There, I gave you the launchpad, get going and change your world!

Postscript:

Sigh and okay…all you women with romantic men in your life…tell me all about it. Oh wait, husband just came home carrying a primrose plant to add to our Primrose Lane this spring. Aw, gee.

the first Primrose Lane gift

the first Primrose Lane gift