The touch. The feel of Tom’s mustache is enough to make me dreamy eyed for more than a month. Maybe it’s the hair and the mustache that’s makes me sing “Tracks of My Tears” each and every time I see The Big Chill, which was only once because romantic comedies make my brain explode.
Romantic comedies do not make me feel more romantic – they make me feel like knocking back 44 cocktails and passing out in a dumpster. Anything is better than paying $10.95 for some kissy-poo mess with a 3-D happy ending.
If you’re girlfriend drags to you a romantic comedy she believes that happy endings are found in movies, not massage parlors. It’s okay. Throw on a copy of Cocaine Cowboys to straighten her out because nothing says I love you more than a dismembered body in a box. Just ask this guy: