The Dirt…

The other day I sat through Dirty Dancing with my wife. For those of you unfamiliar with this cinematic work, it features a bunch of people, clearly from the eighties, going back in time to (supposedly) 1963. This girl meets this bloke, who’s a bit of a prick to her at first, and then he teaches her to dance, clearly as a metaphor for sex. Then they actually have sex. Then everyone dances to I’ve Had The Time of My Life, even though the synth bass has yet to be invented. The end.

Just like the beginning of Watchmen

Now, I am reliably informed that this film is extremely popular among, well, females. Presumably they are not too fussed about period detail, but pointing this out generally will not endear you to them. It’s a bit like complaining that a 13 year old is unlikely to be able to understand UNIX systems as you’re watching Jurassic Park. It’s missing the point, which is good snarky fun, but is guaranteed to piss off your girl if she’s a fan. Dirty Dancing has been described as “The Ultimate Romance”, and “Star Wars for Girls”, which suggests that a lot of women relate to it in a way us chaps just can’t understand.

So fellas, when your special lady suggests you watch it together, instead of ignoring her and putting on The Evil Dead, why not indulge her? And this doesn’t mean you can make references to Patrick Swayze’s Kiddie porn dungeon from Donnie Darko, or add your own rude lyrics to She’s Like The Wind. And constantly suggesting that nobody had hair like that in the sixties is a big no no. Just keep your gob shut, ignore the ridiculousness of the whole thing, and be glad that there’s something that makes the person you love happy. And after all that you’ll definitely get laid!

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