I Love You, Man: A Singletude Review

It's official! I have a crush! Since it arrived from Netflix, I've been in deep like with I Love You, Man. The bromance of the century is as spit-out-your-Sprite funny as the likes of Wedding Crashers and Knocked Up, but the themes it addresses through dialogue so achingly real it feels like a hammer to the funny bone elevate this flick several cuts above. So why am I still withholding affection? Because while the movie skewers matrimania, it still demonizes singles.

Meet Peter Klaven (Paul Rudd), a straight-laced, dependable, ambitious yet sensitive real estate agent in touch with his feminine side. Now meet Zooey Rice (Rashida Jones), sweet, attractive, easygoing co-owner of a retail boutique. The two live in a beautiful house in the suburbs of LA, and Peter has just proposed. They have it all, which usually signals the end of the movie. Not in this case.

See, Peter is missing something--friends. Oh, he has co-workers and acquaintances, even fencing buddies, but no one close enough to stand up for him at his wedding. After he overhears Zooey's BFFs critiquing his social skills, he has an epiphany: "I gotta get some f****** friends!" he vows. From that point on, he becomes a man on a mission to cleverly exploit every parallel to contemporary dating cliches. In the process, he endures misguided "set-ups" (one of which includes possibly the best projectile vomiting scene in cinematic history), discovers that men online lie about their age, and agonizes over how soon to call for that first "man date." The expected hilarity ensues, not just because Peter isn't actually romancing these guys but because it hits home that much of the same hope, anxiety, frustration, and excitement that we associate with dating applies to courting a new friend, as well.

Now enter Sydney Fife (Jason Segel), a womanizing, Cheeto-munching, bar-brawling, air guitar-riffing man's man. Here the movie takes a detour to Fight Club Lite as Sydney bonds with Peter, teaching him to speak Guy (a language he flubs often and spectacularly), obey the rules of the brotherhood, and grow a pair. It's all good, and Peter is feeling the brotherly love until his fiancee fears that their relationship is threatening to become a menage a trois.

Because this is, after all, a Hollywood comedy, alter egos Peter and Sydney must each know something the other needs to learn in order to grow and change. Peter, obviously, needs friends. Director John Hamburg has decided that Sydney needs a girlfriend. Or maybe not a girlfriend yet--mercifully, the set-up that Peter and Zooey force on him doesn't work out--but the maturity and interpersonal skills necessary to land one. Therein lies the reason for my love-hate relationship with I Love You, Man.

What the movie does right is present a positive model for a balanced relationship that is not overly couplecentric. Peter and Zooey love each other and enjoy spending time together, but, by the end, they also have fulfilling lives apart with their own friends and career interests. The message that marital partners can't be each other's "everything," that they need platonic friends outside the relationship, is so enlightened and exceptional in the entertainment world that singles with singletude can't help but fall hard for this film.

On the other hand, as much fun and heart as Sydney brings to this story, he's still a caricature of the aging bachelor who refuses to grow up while all his friends are settling down. In one troubling scene, he phones everyone he knows to make weekend plans but is rejected by one after the other. Turns out his friends have wives and children who top their priority lists. Ok, Mr. Hamburg, we get it. When push comes to shove, family trumps friends. Fine. But then you pull out the heavyweights, the three Bs, and leave Sydney looking bummed, bored, and bereft. This is a guy who supposedly has a successful investment business, a collection of high-end guitars he rocks out on, a dog he's devoted to, and friends he hangs with a few times a week. Yet the one day everyone is busy, he's presented as a pathetic no-life who can't find a way to amuse himself on his own. Then there's Zooey's token single friend, who is, of course, a whiny, desperate Plain Jane (the cool, sexy one is married) and a mini-lesson toward the end about respecting the privacy of interactions within the sanctum of the relationship. These elements combine to proclaim a message that matrimaniacs are losers, but singles are losers, too, that to strike a successful balance, one should find a happy, healthy relationship or at least accept that relationships make the world go round. I'm down with the first half of that thesis but not the second.

In fantasyland, Sydney teaches Peter what he needs to learn without ever succumbing to the vices of stereotypical bachelorhood. But then there wouldn't be a conflict, and as all wannabe screenwriters know, a script without conflict is like a platinum wedding without a bridezilla. Or something. Anyway, it doesn't sell. Though I can't commit my whole heart to I Love You, Man, as the only movie in recent memory to call out matrimaniacs and lampoon intensive coupling, it still has me pretty infatuated.




How important do you think it is for a couple to maintain separate friendships outside their relationship? What can couples do to balance time together and time apart? How do you think bachelors are usually portrayed in Hollywood? Is the Hollywood version of the bachelor at all representative of the single men you know? If you've seen I Love You, Man, what are your thoughts on the movie? Do you think it has a positive or a negative message about singles in general and single men in particular? What does it say to you about matrimania/intensive coupling/enmeshed or codependent relationships? By the end of the movie, do you think Peter and Zooey provide a healthy model for couples or not? Can you recommend any other movies that tackle matrimania?


Fun Link of the Day


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Ms. Taken: The Fake Engagement Ring for Single Women

While combing stories for Singletude's last "Singles in the News" feature, I stumbled across an article called "Fake Engagement Rings Marketed to Single Women," which alerted me to a new bauble on the market that Reality Bling calls "a little bright lie." In case the headline I just linked to didn't tip you off, it's a fake engagement ring that's being marketed to single women. Cutely called Ms. Taken, the ring promises to help you pub 'n' club happily ever after unmolested by barflies. Just slip it on when you want to discourage a loser walking your way, then tuck it into its keychain fob when the coast is clear. It's the perfect on-again/off-again relationship.

Ms. Taken's home page is dominated by an embedded video commercial that should amuse those who like their fake wedding humor bawdy. You're also prominently invited to "Become a fan on Facebook" in case you care to advertise that your engagement is fake. That way if you really want to pull a fast one on a rejected suitor, you can flash him your faux diamond but whisper in his ear to look you up on Facebook, and then--gotcha! Suckerrrr! Neener, neener, neener! At the top of the page, a pic of the big sparkly is captioned, "On the dance floor or at the bar, nothing says 'I'm taken' like a fake engagement ring."

A click on "Product Details" reveals that Ms. Taken is a 2-carat Austrian crystal (congratulations--your pretend fiance is an investment banker!) set in a stainless steel band. It comes with the aforementioned keychain fob, a jewelry case, and, for some reason, 20 "Playaz" cards bearing images of classics like "Neal Anderthal" and "Jamaall That." If you order now, these timeless treasures will be yours to collect, trade, and preserve for generations to come. Or I guess you could pull them out if you and your friends get bored waiting for losers to leave you alone.

The ring and its accoutrement can be ordered for a grand total of $50.00. Frankly, you can buy a crystal or a cubic zirconia for half that in most department stores, though you'll have to drop it in your purse or your pocket instead of a custom-tailored keychain fob. And, of course, you'll have to do without the Playaz.

More interesting than the ring itself is the message it sends to singles. A quick scan of reviews of Ms. Taken shows that that message has been hotly debated. The article mentioned at the beginning of this post argues that Ms. Taken demeans single women, implying that they can't handle unwanted social interaction without relying on lame excuses or, worse, that they need the suggestion of a mate to prove they're worth more than lewd stares and cheesy pickup lines. Others, like "Ms. Taken = Puke in My Mouth," claim that Ms. Taken sends the wrong signal to men, communicating that it's a-okay to harass women who are unattached, that only a man's protection makes a woman worthy of respect.

Admittedly, I've donned a cubic zirconia with intent to deceive more than once, and I've never given a thought to it being singlist before. My motivation has usually been to avoid unwanted attention while out for a girl's night or when I want to run errands in peace, and now that I'm single by choice, an easy way to advertise my unavailability is even more attractive. It's not that I'm incapable of fending off punchless pickup lines with my rapier wit, but sometimes I'd rather not have to. Men in pursuit can be aggressive, especially in the metro area I call home, and some of them interpret a polite "no, thank you" as code for "you-have-three-minutes-to-convince-me-to-give-you-my-number-starting-now-GO." When I'm trying to have a good time with my friends or--God forbid--shop for groceries, drop a bill in the mail, or read in the park unmolested, the last thing I want to do is argue with Insert Random Guy about why I won't have a drink with him. A strategically placed rhinestone speaks for me (and hopefully says, "Game Over"). But, according to the bloggers above, the very fact that I expect a ring to exempt me from these exchanges proves to men that they can harass me with impunity if I'm not some other guy's property. Is this true?

I think not. I think it's unfair to men to assume they're all Neal Anderthals who view women as chattel, ripe for the plucking unless some other cowboy has left his stamp first. Today, an engagement ring is a visible sign of a woman's choice as much as a man's. In contemporary society's language, it says, "I have chosen to be in a monogamous relationship with someone. I am not interested in anyone else." Men who steer clear of an engaged woman are respecting her choice as much as the man she chose. If a single woman could wear a ring that was universally recognized to mean she wasn't open to dating, I suspect a lot of men would respect that, too. Of course, there would always be some who would see it as a challenge, but these would probably be the same cavemen who hit on women wearing engagement rings the size of the Hope Diamond. These male chauvinist oinkers don't respect anyone or anthing except the notches on their own belts and are just out to add a few more whenever they can.

Single men are susceptible to enculturation just like everybody else, and I won't claim that singlism never colors their interactions with single women. Undoubtedly, there's a man out there who won't take no for an answer because he believes that any woman should prefer his 5 AM Concerto in Snore Major to a lifetime of waking up to nothing but birds. But my guess is that most men have no such illusions when they present themselves to be chewed up and spit out on the nearest bar. Instead, they're just doing what successful hunters have always done--aiming for the most likely targets (women who are single) and shooting as many arrows as they can, hoping one will hit. If some of those arrows fall flat, miss the mark, or veer toward our chests instead of our brains or our funny bones, then the hunters have poor technique, not a special contempt for deer.

I'm not saying this to excuse inexcusable conduct. Like most people, I believe that women who are subjected to unwanted comments or contact should take steps to let offenders know their behavior is unacceptable, whether that means walking away gracefully or reporting them to management. But I don't think the majority of men set out to use Borat as a role model, and those who do don't care whether their sexytime partner is wearing a ring or not unless it's in her tongue. For the rest, a ring is simply shorthand for "no chance in hell." You could use a scowl, a slap, or puke in your mouth to get across the same message, but with a ring you can still be pretty. ;)

But maybe I'm wrong. Maybe those bloggers weren't overanalyzing, and I'm unwittingly supporting singlism every time I resort to a fast, one-size-fits-all excuse rather than a nuanced rationale of why I prefer to be single while I scan the room for an exit.


What do you think? Do fake engagement rings promote singlism? Do they send a message to single women that they are "less than" or that they can't fend for themselves in social situations? Do they send a message to single men that women who aren't taken are free to be harassed? If you're a single woman, have you ever worn a make-believe engagement ring, and, if not, would you? Why or why not? If you're a single man, what do you think of women who, um, engage in this practice?


Fun Link of the Day


Do you have a question for Clever Elsie about some aspect of the single life? Have a rant or rave about singlehood? Write in, and you just might see your question in a Singletude Q&A or your rant or rave in a Singletude Sound-off!