Stalker Movies as Romantic Comedies
If I could make a Doc Film series based on stalker movies I’ve seen with Renee, these would definitely be on the list:
Wicker Park (2004) — People going in through the windows, pretending to be people they’re not, and, generally, creepiness.
Addicted to Love (1997) — An amazing movie wherein I remember Meg Ryan spying on the guy she wants, spending exorbitant resources to do so, in spy-vs-spy fashion.
I’m sure there are 8 more, so I’m submitting the proposal.
I’m Just That Into It
One day I found myself in Border’s reading He’s Just Not That Into You cover to cover. Really. I was having some psychodrama with a male friend and I wanted to see if I could take any of the principles of the tome and apply it to a platonic relationship.
For the uninitiated, the premise of this fine piece of work is basically that no matter what a guy does you should make sure you act superior to it. But also let him think he has all the power (or, as it is in reality, have all the power.) Never call. Never email. Never text. Never, God forbid, talk about your feelings. If he doesn’t answer a single piece of communication, assume he’s not interested and move on. Please, don’t even bother to think “But his mother could have died!” You’re a goddess; if his mother died he should still answer your drunken midnight texts. If not, don’t look back.
Reading this got me to thinking. How can I relearn all of my socialization and start to relate to men who are my friends in a way that doesn’t mimic some sort of sick, unequal power dynamic that’s usually found in a romantic relationship? I desperately want this not to be a problem, but I consistently find myself in these weird When Harry Met Sally moments. Can men and woman actually be friends? Even when the woman has an object orientation so far from that man it’s sickening?
As R. Kelly so wisely puts it, I’m a flirt. It’s gotten worse as I’ve gotten older, and I often find that a lot of the men I hang out with are, er, a little confused about the level of interest I have in them. This can go on for hours, or days, or months. And then I feel guilty on every level.
But I like to push boundaries, and I’m unclear as to why an hour into a conversation I should I have to be declaring my relationship status, my sexual orientation, my level of romantic interest, or anything else. It’s just flirting. Isn’t that harmless?
Frankly I always worried that it just wasn’t harmless for the poor unsuspecting men in my life, until I started reading that when a man doesn’t answer my emails it means he’s just not that into me. Clearly, something weird was going on. Why was I mimicking a dynamic I didn’t need to have in the first place? I never pick up self-help books to help me with my female friendships.
I’ve decided to make all things equal I’m just going to take everything I learned from He’s Just Not That Into You and apply it to all my relationships, including those at work. I just want to see what happens. What if we related to everyone in our lives in this sort of power game? Wouldn’t we all wind up alone?
The Shanty Kingdom 