Hot Whore-ish Dream Guy: variation of Man Ho With a Heart of Gold

Made Official by editors at Urban Dictionary <—— click here

 

He sleeps with models or really hot chicks.

He’ll change for you because you’re different.

He has Peter Pan Syndrome- and copious amounts of mysterious money he inherited or something because he doesn’t seem to have a job or work much on anything, so he can spend all of his time being a horn dog.

He’s supposedly irresistibly good-looking and knows it- some sort of man candy.

He’s um, off beat somehow – quirky himself, has low self esteem, hurts deep down inside, but masks it with narcissism.

He gets you out of your “shell” by getting you throw things, role play as characters from Dirty Dancing, or play strip H-O-R-S-E (basketball) with him.

Similar to The Manic Pixie Dream Girl in that he’ll get you to experience new things/lose some inhibitions, is “quirky” and also in that he is not successful professionally, does not pursue traditional grown up work patterns. She has Wendy Syndrome.

Different to The MPDG in that she will hook up with “nice guys”, not just models, the superficially attractive. HWDG is sly and methodical where MPDG is coy and cutesy.

MPDG and HWDG are new millennial breeds- not out for matrimony, and with no definitive romantic end game. They are catalysts for other characters to loosen up/change. HWDG in turn demonstrates being less shallow at the end. HWDG changes on his own accord, not because a female is pursuing him to change him.

HWDG isn’t as traditional, doesn’t wind up in status quo relationships like Ladykiller in Love or Reformed Rake.

HWDG’s change can be exhibited to platonic female characters- ie. in About a Boy and in New Girl.

Examples:

yep, Hugh Grant as Will

Jacob in Crazy Stupid Love – yeah, you know it’s The Goz

Shirtless Schmidt from New Girl

Colin from What’s Your Number

The jump? 2002 – shirt, lately- no shirts

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Review of and Defense of What’s Your Number

I truly wanted to see this opening weekend because I love Anna Faris, but grad school and a series of bad reviews got in the way. Finally made it out to see the last Sunday night showing- probably before they yank it away from theaters.  I thought it would kind of be like The Ex List, with Elizabeth Reaser, the tv show I liked that got cancelled after a few episodes.  Yes, the conceit of the magazine article seemed quite ridiculous too- why would a woman let such a thing mentally block her? But- just go with it.

The previews/trailers didn’t do it justice. The whole, “I’ll help you hide from your girlfriends if you help me find my exes” thing between Ally and her neighbor Colin (Chris Evans) didn’t jive. It wasn’t until you find out that his dad was a cop and he knows how to track people down did that make any sense.

Strangely enough, the movie opens exactly like Bridesmaids did- Ally goes to the bathroom to freshen up before her guy wakes up just like Wiig’s Annie does.  I’ll tell you how What’s Your Number differs from BridesmaidsBrides tries to appeal to a male audience with barfing and diarrhea. That’s great for teen boys and dudes who never grew up- so it worked. WYN worked on the women’s front.  I wanted to like Bridesmaids, but hated it the first time around. It’s grown on me since. My initial opinion was that Wiig’s character was really alienating, off-putting and way too into herself, as opposed to Faris’ character’s self deprecation and natural silliness, which I found more relatable.

WYN’s previews make the protagonist, Ally, look like she gives a shit about the numbers, but it’s really a piece about a woman who doesn’t care, but feels pressured to, and how damaging articles in women’s magazines can be.  Ally obviously comes from the school of ‘Do Me Feminism’ and we see her low self esteem moments- what woman hasn’t had them? Assuming, she’s smart and always safe- does a woman have to seriously contemplate every sexual encounter?

Compared to other rom-coms, Ally is realistic and the Anne Hathaway characters out there are prudish, scrubbed and safe for puritanical American consumption. Women are trapped into still acting “pure”. The evidence? Articles in The New Scientist and AskMen even- where women lie- play down the number of sexual partners they have because they’re afraid of being judged – like Ally does at first in the movie.  We’re shamed for some reason into pretending we didn’t have certain conquests that we did.  Rare is the female character who is unapologetic about it like Samantha on Sex and the City.  Men wear their numbers like a badge of their testosterone levels.

What would’ve helped? Probably better trailers and better marketing, but– As cheesy as the exposition was in Crazy Stupid Love with Ryan Gosling’s character on why he’s such a player, it worked- you find out why he’s a man whore with low self esteem- his mom was cold and aloof, yada yada. With Colin we don’t know much about his psychology except that his dad worked a lot and didn’t take him to as many ball games as he would’ve liked.  Also, bestiality talk still isn’t that palatable- and there was some of it- about a dog in WYN. Cutting that would’ve been nice, but I see also that it shows how desperate some people are.  The strip basketball scene and the clay carvings were both- ehh.

WYN breaks some conventions nicely. Brides shows Annie always going back to the asshole, the playa (played by Jon Hamm). It wants her to be with the safe, nice, caring cop. In WYN, Colin has an equal in Ally. She’s on his level. She’s a dude who’s banged a string of people too. He’s flawed. She’s flawed and they accept each other. In the end, Annie conforms more than Ally does.

Neither Ally or Colin are society’s “safe” and “acceptable” mates.  Emma Stone’s character in Crazy Stupid Love is- she’s perfect- in law school and cool.  She’s presentable.  Why shouldn’t women have “hoes in area codes” and then try to find out if they maybe missed a needle in a hay stack? Men do in the movies and “the one” they find just consents to it.

I don’t think America could wrap their heads around certain things in WYN. It opens with talking about doggie style sex and then moves onto a discussion anal later.

The ending begins with Ally yelling that she’s a “jobless whore” and ending up with her man whore neighbor (which we saw coming, but didn’t expect in this way).  There’s also the scene where Colin and Ally walk to an “open house” and they talk about the type of woman who you can take home to your family, [bake an apple pie with your mom- or something–a list of characteristics I forget- will have to get a hold of the script] who’ll then take off her glasses and “fuck you sideways”. Colin says, “This woman doesn’t exist”.  She only exists on a show like New Girl or movies written by men.  Here, I think the writers are referring to the manic pixie dream girl again. Kudos to the writers of WYN for this. It’s ridiculous that women have to try to shoe-horn themselves into certain molds.  In WYN, Ally escapes this conformity and confinement by “being herself”.  WYN WYN.

Look at the posters for WYN

Visual rhetoric here:  Ally’s on top of the numbers. She has a man behind her.

Btw, the runner with Chris Pratt (Faris’ real life husband) in WYN is hilarious.

Liked Mylod’s directing.

Ally’s series of mishaps with guys is a riot- all the past Allys had us rolling.

You’ll have to see it. Viva la “jobless whore”.

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Launch of “T&A Do LA”

September 12, 2011

Reprinted from  — over 10 thousand Twitter followers can’t be wrong–

“The Set-Up”

One of our names begins with T and the other with A – we’re a magical combo representing the front and the back, the best of both worlds, the humps and the lumps. We’re girls with similar life paths, who came to Los Angeles ages ago and earned our stripes looking for love among the Hollywood hipsters. We are here to share what we’ve learned with you, with the charm of Southern gals and the smarts of city vixens.

A has dated so many LA guys that she couldn’t come close to naming them all, and sometimes doesn’t recognize them in public. She keeps a spreadsheet of the ones she slept with – not because the list is that long, but because some are so easy to forget.

T has managed not to kill her boyfriend, somehow.

Take 1: The Set-Up

What happens when T tries to make a match for A? Somebody ends up in prison. Read on to find out who …

The T Side:

In the six or so years I’ve known A, I’ve tried to play matchmaker with her a few times. I set her up with the muscled bassist in my boyfriend’s band. I set her up with a quiet roommate who made video games and wore glasses. I set her up with a bad boy who had wild black hair and wore bandanas around it.

At this point, A’s probably second-guessing my attempts, as I’m 0 for 3 with the above-described young “gentlemen.” However, I assure her I’m responsible for one successful marriage – when I was a freshman in college, I introduced two people who are still together with two children now.

Back to Los Angeles – I was producing a photo shoot for a clothing designer, and one of the boy models was from the same state where I went to school. We’ll call him “M.” M and I kept in touch and I found him to be an awesome guy, except that he had an insane girlfriend who tried to kill every female who ever spoke to him. I’d kidnap him from her and we’d drive around and talk about basketball, living on the opposite side of the country from where we grew up, and what we hoped to get out of LA. M was always easy to be around, just like I found A to be.

After M had gotten rid of said deranged girl, I thought that he and A would make a cute couple, since A hailed from the same region. This was after A and I sat outside at wooden picnic benches one night in the back of a decaying dive bar in Echo Park and she was making a list of things she’d like to see happen in her life. I recall one of them being “to be a cute little old woman with a cute little old man.”

My chance didn’t come for some time since M moved away, but as soon as he got back to LA I booked them both for the day. I have a nice set of photos of them in the sunshine, on the Santa Monica Pier. I was pretty satisfied at this union I created.

This is where I’ll hand it off to A to tell you what happened after this. Apparently boys are a different story when they’re just your friends, as opposed to when you get involved with them in a romantic sense. I’m no stranger to having guys purely as friends who are total cads to women …

The A Side:

When you’ve banged your head against the wall that is LA dating long enough, you give up on success on your own terms. So even after a couple of laughable set-ups by T (one guy secretly hooked up with my friend, the other barely spoke to me), when she suggested an afternoon outing with her friend M, I was immediately in. Immediately, because I knew of this guy and he was hot – the kind of hot that makes you click longingly through their Facebook photos on a regular basis for years on end (not that I did that).

I stepped out of the shower that day to find Mr. Click-Worthy playing banjo on my sofa, like the hipster gods had just dropped him there (nice touch, T, letting him in while you walked your dog). He took a nip from my Jack Daniel’s before we’d even left for brunch (flag), invited me on tour with his non-existent band (flag), took us to the frat house where he worked (flag) and polished off a bottle of cheap bourbon by mid-afternoon (flag). But he was still charismatic and disarmingly hot, so when he took me on the Ferris wheel at Santa Monica Pier and we kissed overlooking the Pacific, I was pretty giddy.

By evening, he’d told me I was beautiful a few dozen times and couldn’t keep his hands off me, but he was also too drunk to stand up. However, he was still hot, and I had just been crushingly dumped. He was perfect post-breakup, don’t-care distraction material. But it’s hard to REALLY not care, especially when they’re SO good-looking and you DO like them and hanging out is FUN, you know? So even as I told friends I didn’t trust him further than I could throw a bottle of Xanax and he blacked out entire evenings we spent together, I was secretly wandering into dangerous real-feelings territory.

After a road trip on which he bought Smirnoff Ice because it was the most alcoholic thing at the gas station (flag), he mentioned meeting up with an old friend, and the text odes to my beauty and charm stopped cold. It wasn’t surprising, since these types tend to burn bright and fast. But it was still a let down, especially when “old friend” turned into “new girlfriend” within a week or so. It became less of a let down a couple months later … when he tried to kill her while she was sleeping. He’s in prison now. So thanks T, but that was three strikes, and you’re out.

T is currently bench-warming for a bit, but who’s next in line for your perfect match? Ask us questions or tell us your set-up stories in the comments! (click here)

We’re having a “mancession”.