Man Movie

McIrish would like you to think he is the perfect husband. He often talks about how wonderful he is. He cooks, he rubs my feet, he listens to my plot snarls. Sure, he’s a very nice guy. But let’s not get carried away! He has his flaws. Among them: his addiction to certain movies. Yes. There are certain movies that cause our cozy little world to come to a standstill. No debate will be tolerated, no matter how many times we’ve seen these suckers. The truth is, I like man movies almost as much as I like chick flicks. It’s not that. It’s the sheer number of times I’ve been subjected to these movies. They are, in no particular order…

All of the Bourne Movies. Don’t get me wrong. I love the premise of the Bourne movie. Amnesiac assassin tries to bring down corrupt government that made him fluent in 413 languages, taught him every type of martial arts and how to make a bomb with peanut butter and a shoelace. The thing is, the movies all blur into one long fight-fest for me. Except the one with Jeremy Renner, in which I am overcome with lust. Then it blurs into one long sigh-fest. I still don’t know what happens in that movie, other than J-Ren is ssssssmokin’ hot.

Crimson Tide/Hunt for Red October/U-571. They’re all the same as far as I’m concerned. Bad guys vs. good guys in submarine. Cringe-worthy accents. Talented actors phoning it in for money. But there’s something magical about submarines if you’re a man. Any movie, no matter how bad the acting, is worth watching if there’s a submarine in it, apparently. In fact, McIrish’s lieutenant told me that he’d read one of my books if there was a submarine in it. I may stick one in just to make him do it. (You’re welcome for that photo, by the way.)

The Fugitive. Again, it was fine the first eleven times I saw it. But I don’t get the endless allure that movie exerts over my husband. Running, the one-armed man, some more running, jumping, running, disguising, the hospital, some running, the dawning realization that Harrison Ford is a terrible actor, running, another disguise, some running…

The Matrix Reloaded and The Matrix That Was Even Worse. As I said, I love guy movies. I love The Matrix! I own The Matrix, in fact. But Matrixes II and III are just terrible, so far as I’m concerned. Watching those movies is akin to having a blow-dart full of powerful narcotics blown into my jugular. And at least I fall asleep. Because otherwise, I’d have to watch them.

So the next time you hear McIrish talking about how great he is, you’ll know the truth. And don’t get me started on The Shawshank Redemption.

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