'It's All so Sugarless'

Not enough people have seen "Don Jon." I've felt this way since the Joseph Gordon-Levitt film came out last year and the feeling's only gotten stronger, especially in light of the release of Kim Kardashian West's Paper magazine layout.

The film is about a porn-obsessed young man trying to make a real-life relationship work with a woman who knows how to use what she has to get what she wants. They're both using each other for their own personal gain – him for the status of having a hot girlfriend and her for the status of having a boyfriend she can control – because that's what they think they're supposed to do.

Sex is everywhere in this movie, in commercials on TV, in the club where Jon works, the conversations with his friends and, of course, the porn he watches on his computer and phone. What he comes to realize is that none of this is sexy because none of it is real, it's all airbrushed, Photoshopped, scripted, manipulated, distorted, empty.

That's what I thought when I saw the new pictures of Kim Kardashian West. How is that supposed to be sexy? The magazine is trying so hard to be shocking by showing the world KIM KARDASHIAN WEST NAKED but took all the beauty and sexiness out of it. She's a piece of plastic, so smooth and shiny and human-like but not really human at all.

You need a little something extra to be truly sexy, it's not necessarily about beauty but more about attitude and personality and charisma. It's energy and confidence. It's in the way a person walks into the room, how easily they can carry on a conversation. It's in their laugh and opinions and talents and interests and successes and disappointments.

True sexiness can't be created in Photoshop. As I learned from these photos in Paper, sexiness can be filtered away, softened and faded until it becomes more sexy-like than sexy-true, the suggestion of sex rather than sex itself (and the billion things tied up in that tiny word). Kim Kardashian West probably is a very sexy woman in real life, beautiful and poised and successful, a mother, a mogul, a wife.

Those things are too hard to capture on film. Those things don't fill headlines for days on end. Instead we're given something cheap, something fake. Sadly, some people see this and think that's what sexy is. I hope someday they'll discover the real thing.

‘I Believe That One & One Make Two’

I sat through about a half-dozen previews tonight when I went to see the “Twilight Zone”-level creepy “Gone Girl.” Because I think “Gone Girl” is sort of a date movie (it has a couple in it so, naturally, couples will go see it, I believe marketers must be thinking), half the previews were for “date movies” – “Best of Me,” a Nicholas Sparks movie, “50 Shades of Grey,” which a woman in the theater actually applauded, and “The Theory of Everything,” a biopic about the relationship between Stephen Hawking and his first wife, Jane.

I will only ever see one of those movies.

Maybe I’m a snob. Maybe I’m cold. Maybe I’m heartless. Maybe I’m uptight. Maybe I’m a lot of things. Whatever the reasons, so many of these love stories, romances, date movies, etc. don’t seem loving or romantic to me in the least. Instead, I find a lot of these movies to be silly, irritating, even offensive.

As much as I adore Cameron Crowe, I feel he did the world a huge disservice with the line, “You complete me,” from “Jerry Maguire.” No, you don’t. No one does. At least, I don’t believe they do, which is why I’m the worst audience for a Nicholas Sparks movie where an intelligent, capable, determined adult woman’s life is worthless because she didn’t end up with her high school boyfriend.

What the heck?

I’m over the crumbling woman. I’m over the hot mess. I’m over Olivia Pope’s lower lip trembling whenever she’s within 5 miles of the president because she’s a successful, intelligent, powerful woman and she shouldn’t turn to jelly over some guy, especially one who’s completely terrible, by the way.

That’s not sexy. Neither is a promising, intelligent young woman completely turning over control of her life to some guy who’s going to help her “discover herself” in all manner of twisted ways. Please, don’t applaud that.

I’m not a Nicholas Sparks person. I’m not a Christian Grey person. I’m not a Fitz person.

So what am I?

I'm Leslie and Ben. Lorelei and Luke. Lily and Marshall. Jane and Brad.

I believe being in a relationship is an equal partnership. I believe you should like the person you’re with as much as you love them. I believe you can only be good for someone else if you’re good for yourself first. I believe love is about having someone’s back, being their biggest cheerleader, their most-ardent defender, their most-honest critic. It’s about wanting your partner to be their best self and supporting them on that journey. It’s about the bad times making you stronger. It’s about being with someone who doesn’t make your life but makes your life better.

I don’t see that often enough in movies or on TV. Instead it’s incomplete people looking to be made whole. Instead it’s couples endlessly sniping at each other. Instead it’s grand gestures that mean very little. Instead many of these “love stories” don’t look like love to me at all.

'That Didn't Happen'

I've spent much of my life cataloging pop culture factoids and bits of miscellany, reflexively storing all of this information in my brain and waiting for moment when it will all pay off. There have been times, the small talk, game nights with friends, even my second-place turn on "Rock & Roll Jeopardy!", but I've yet to find a way to truly cash in on all the ephemera that floats around in my head.

Last night it hit me, I can offer my services to film and television makers as a pop culture reference consultant. Some people might not notice if a movie that features a plot point where a song from 1985 is introduced to the world by a character who's travelled back to 1986 from the 2000s, but I do. Some people might not care if a TV character mentions having seen the Sex Pistols when there's zero possibility that he could have, but I do. Some people wouldn't pass on "Rock of Ages" for ideological reasons because the thought of a hard rocker blasting out Journey covers is beyond absurd, but I did. Some people wouldn't roll their eyes throughout "13 Going on 30" because a 13-year-old girl in 1987 wouldn't be obsessed with Rick Springfield or have "Thriller" and "Love Is a Battlefield" as favorite songs, but I do.

And I'm sure I'm not the only one.

So, Hollywood, let me help you make your films and TV shows a little more real. Let me help you decide if your character would have played with a My Little Pony or a Giga Pet. Let me help you decide if your character wore stirrup pants or 5x Dickies. Let me help you decide if your character would have watched "Diff'rent Strokes" or "Boy Meets World." Let me help you decide if your character's first concert would have been NKOTB or BSB.

These might seem like minor details, but everything from the furniture in the room to the music being played in the background to the clothes the characters are wearing helps solidify the universe you're trying to create. They help the audience get lost in the moments you're presenting and help us care more about the story you're telling. Details matter.

I'm here to answer the challenge. While we're making your movies and TV shows more pop culturally accurate, we can also work on making them more culturally accurate, too, sharing stories from the full spectrum of human experiences. Having more truth in art can only be a good thing.

A Request

Television (and by that, I mean the guys in charge of television, because it's still mostly guys in charge), I'd like to make a request. Can the women on your shows look more like women? Because the thing is that, with very few exceptions, the women I see on TV don't look like any women I know in real life, myself included.

That's a problem.

Like the current push for increased diversity in children and young adult fiction, I'd like to push for increased diversity in depictions of women on TV. We're not all bone-thin in tight skirts and tank tops rushing to crime scenes in stilettos. We're not all quirky. We're not all shrill or mean. We're not all on the edge of a nervous breakdown.

We're not all any one thing. We're three billion different things. Sadly, just a few things are being shown.

So I'm asking to see more because I know there's so much more to see.

Television, can you deliver?

'I'm Just Being Honest'

Being late to the party as I so often am, I have spent the past week catching up on "Mad Men" (thank you, Netflix). The show is beautiful and captivating and smart and just soapy enough to make watching episode after episode a completely natural thing to do.

One thing nagged at me as I delved into the first season, and it's stuck with me through the remaining seasons—the show is so judgmental of its characters. As I watched the first few episodes, I felt like the people behind "Mad Men" had a list of grievances for their parents' generation so created this show to let the world see how cruel their fathers were, how cold their mothers.

Character after character makes terrible mistake after terrible mistake, and it's like, OK, I get it, I'm supposed to judge these people. I don't want to, though. I don't want to spend all my time judging and it feels like that's all pop culture wants us to do anymore, to look down at fictional and real-life train wrecks, because isn't passing judgment so damn much fun?

I'm not above it, I do it far too much. I want to get over it, move beyond all the judging, all the snobbery, all the talking down and looking over and rolling eyes. I want the world to get over it, too, the name-calling and the finger pointing and everything else for no better reason than it's mean and meanness only spurs more meanness.

I wanted to be a pop music critic when I was younger and have written a decent amount of reviews for various outlets, including this blog. I believe in the benefit criticism, that letting someone know when they're doing something poorly can help them improve, and that letting them know when they're doing something well can keep them on the right track. That's not what the tabloids and reality shows and such are doing when they judge and criticize, that's not what we're doing when we take part, it's not about helping someone up, it's about keeping someone down.

I have about a dozen more episodes of "Mad Men" to get through before I'm totally caught up, then I'll most likely watch the new episodes when they begin airing in two weeks. I'll pay attention to the story, the clothes, the music, the art direction, and the character and plot development, as well as the tone. Will the show give these people the benefit of the doubt or even a little sympathy? More importantly, will I? I really should.

'That's the Way Love Goes'

I've written before about how much I enjoy being a fan. I'm a collector, an aficionado, an enthusiast, an analyst. Or, as Abed Nadir so plainly put it, "I guess I just like liking things."

A relationship develops between the fan and the artist or media they adore, with give and take on both sides. For instance, when John Mayer takes a break in nearly every concert to thank all of us for still coming to the shows, for still buying the albums, for sticking up for him, for having his back, it feels completely natural to me that I would do all those things in exchange for him regularly hitting the studio, pouring out his heart, taking it out and the road and so forth. We each get something out of the deal.

But, as with relationships, sometimes the bond is broken, sometimes you have to say goodbye. I used to decry the glee people felt in being over things, a crime I repeatedly witnessed on those list shows VH1 used to run, where some critic or comedian would talk so dismissively about a song or video or artist that was once so huge, because it was somehow better to sneer at the video for A-Ha's "Take on Me" than to admit that you still like it. To me, being over things was one of the crappiest ways to act cool.

Now I wonder how else can a fan respond if they're consistently let down, if the quality slips, if the message is muddied, if the focus shifts, if the edges are sanded down, if the spark is gone? Do you stick it out, keep tuning in week after week, keep going to shows, keep buying tickets even though you're disappointed every time? Or do you cut your losses, say goodbye and just get over it?

I'm choosing the latter. I'm not rolling my eyes as I do, I'm not sharpening my knives as I do, at least I'm trying not to. I don't understand the point of devoting time, attention and affection to a TV show or artist or whatever when the product infuriates or deflates or numbs you. It's so easy to turn the channel or dive into the archives or seek out something enjoyable than to give anything over to something that's not really giving you anything back.

With that in mind, sadly, I think I'll be saying goodbye to "New Girl," just like I did with "How I Met Your Mother," "The Big Bang Theory" and "Modern Family." To me, there's not the same there that used to be there. I don't have the same reaction I used to. I think I'm just over it and instead of cursing the flaws that are now so glaring to me, I'm letting it go and will surely find something else to take its place.

Whether that new "relationship" stands the test of time or not is still to be seen, but at least I know that if it does go south, it's OK to get over that, too.