There is something about movies that makes my life more difficult and frustrating. First of all, movies set unrealistic expectations of men. Did you ever notice that all of the male protagonists in every movie always have one or more of the following: cool car, cool apartment, or cool job? I have none of these. I have an “Abono Transportes de Cercanias“, which translates roughly as a second rate lamenated photo of myself that permits me to travel on the metro and bus in Madrid as many times as I want in any given month. Wow!!! But, there’s no shot-gun on my pass for passengers. It’s not like you walk around to the other side of the bus to open the door for her.
Next, have you ever noticed that men in movies do things that we could never do in real life — principally carrying women in our arms at long distances? Sure, I don’t have time now to go to the gym, but even when I did, there was no way I could carry 50+ kilos of a women (even if when her life depended upon it) into the Saharian cliffs to our secret cave (the English Patient). Was I the only man in the world outraged in Titantic that the King of the World, Leo Decaprio, wasn’t man enough to tell Rose to go screw herself instead of carrying her around a sinking ship for one hour of the movie just to give her the drift wood and not find a little something for himself to grab onto? (Notice she made no sacrifice for him). It’s enough that we need to have a cool set of wheels, a great apartment, and hip job, but the carrying women around is too much to take (not to mention really creative ways of proposing marriage). Women may be turning anorexic due to the pressure of looking like top models, but men are going bald and getting ulcers from the stress of having to earn enough money to be cool and still have time to lift heavy things at the gym.
Finally, the worst thing about movies is that people believe them. Move to Europe. Everyone thinks they know everything about the US, Americans, and American culture because they watch movies. I can’t tell you how many times people in Europe ask, “Isn’t it true that in the US . . .” or “in American high schools everyone . . .” When you tell them that it was just a movie, they don’t believe you. If the movies were true, I would be living in my Manhattan loft, driving a 1950s convertible, with Hitch’s job, and with a puppy that never grows old. Basically, I would be Chico.