Several friends and I recently discussed the differences between men’s and women’s tastes in movies. Guys want the films they watch to be packed with astonishing pyrotechnics that deliver excessive jolts of adrenaline.
“If something doesn’t blow up in the first 15 minutes, my friend’s spouse confessed, “I’m out of there.”
The other men seated at our restaurant table nodded in agreement.
We ladies shared a knowing laugh.
Right then, one of the kitchen’s wait staff dropped what sounded like a four-piece serving for 50. The concerned gentleman seated next to me applauded.
Why are men so enamored with things that go “BANG?” I wondered. Perhaps the male of our species welcomes anything that interrupts otherwise constant thoughts of sex.
Nah, that can’t be it. Nothing could be that jarring.
When it comes to movies, men are attracted to explosions and fires and guns that go “POW!” because viewing these forces allows them to satisfy their urges to eliminate opposition.
Think you won that last argument with your man? Nope. He obliterated your score while watching Transformers. You just don’t know it.
Gals, here’s the deal. Men are physically wired to want something to erupt—loudly. As long as there is plenty of noise, they can avoid listening to us talk.
Furthermore, car explosions and artillery bombs and asteroid collisions boost men’s confidence because they’re always looking for an equalizer to prove size really doesn’t matter. Uh-huh. They’ve never been fully convinced. ![MPj04030700000[1]](http://totallyskewed.files.wordpress.com/2009/06/mpj040307000001.jpg?w=300&h=200 "MPj04030700000[1]")
The metaphorical links between explosions and heated desires have been well established for eons. Good grief, “combustible” even contains the word “bust”.
To a guy, there’s nothing more thrilling than giant fireballs spewing debris and carnage. Don’t ask them to watch a movie that has a dramatic plot, one with actual dialogue and fully clothed stars. That would require too much cerebral effort for anything that lacks a powerful climax.
However, when I’m watching a movie, if something blows up during the first 15 minutes then I expect whatever follows to be a two-hour waste.
Unless, of course, that is the inciting incident that sends the heroine on a journey of self-discovery that takes her to some exotic locale, wherein she will meet some gorgeous hunk of hormones who is suffering some similarly tragic loss, and they will fall in love, drift apart, and then through some chance event reunite and eventually marry and live harmoniously, despite having four children, two dogs, a cat, an iguana and one mother-in-law sharing their quarters.
See, women are just more realistic when it comes to what they expect from films.
