Dear Hollywood, You Suck

Have you ever noticed that according to Hollywood, there are really two kinds of couples in this world? There's the mismatched couple--the businessman and the hooker, the businesswoman and the small-town vet--and the couple that had a not-so-promising beginning--the wedding planner and the groom for one of her weddings, the reporter who lies about his/her name, occupation, age, and ends up falling for the person he/she is lying to. And all this angst and drama makes for some entertaining, if somewhat predictable, movies, as long as you're willing to ignore the fact that in the real world, most of these couples would be divorced by the time they hit the 5-year mark.

But suppose you are willing to ignore that little fact-let. Suppose you're willing to take the leap of faith that somehow, these people who fell in love with each other because of their penchant for only eating M&M's of a certain color or because they supported the other person through a peculiarly bad bout of food allergies will actually stay in love? Then you're faced with the fact that the next time we hear about these people is when they have an unrealistic number of children, all of whom are blessed with uncommon cuteness, as well as the propensity to make funny, yet poignant speeches.

And then, if you're willing to continue your state of suspended reality and believe that families really do live that way, the next time you hear about these people, they're several decades older and often have Alzheimer's. Or sometimes, cancer. And their son or daughter, who is a dogwalker and belongs to a cult in Idaho falls in love with the Oncologist, and the cycle begins all over again.

So according to Hollywood, I'm going to get married, have twelve children, and then die. Yeah, I'm really looking forward to this.