I went to see the movie on Friday. Lars buys a Real Doll, and the
small town rallies round to help him through the emotional
crisis of which this is a symptom.
I enjoy sex with Lena, my huge, soft-toy lioness. I wanted
the film to be about a lonely middle-aged man out of the
work-force and out of the dating scene due to chronic illness
finding warm, soft, snuggly love where he can. Lars and
the Real Girl is not that film.
I enjoyed the film and intended this diary entry to be a
positive review, yet as I think about it more I think that
this "good hearted" film has a morally rotten core.
I was at my local supermarket, fixing an out-of-cheese error, when a muscular and cocksure whim twisted my arm, forcing me to buy a tub of mascarpone. What am I to do with it? Eat it, obviously, but there are details, surrounding this basic concept, that cry out for creative elaboration.
$Recent_Female_Friend came round last Saturday for help with some DIY. We sawed wood into blocks and turned them on my lathe. We stopped for tea.
I remarked that our plan to see a science fiction movie together (her genre suggestion) had foundered due to a lack of suitable movies. There were however other things that a man and a woman could do together, kissing, snogging, sex...
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