The 40-Year Old Virgin

My wife and I watched The 40-Year-Old Virgin last night. I don’t know why I imposed this on myself and on her. I knew deep down that it would be a complete waste of time. Yet, I wanted to believe the reviews that said it was a genuinely funny and insightful movie. I also wanted to give my wife respite from the serious dramas to which I normally subject her.

But the plot was pedestrian, the dialog mindlessly juvenile, and the message hackneyed and utterly lacking in meaningful substance. The movie was so lousy, in my estimation, that it’s not worth saying any more about it other than the fact that I think the premise could have been turned into something with real heart and insight about shyness, prolonged adolescence, and the importance of finding the courage to open up and be yourself instead of what you think society expects you to be.

As I’ve mentioned previously, my own virginity ended significantly later than did that of most of my peers (although I was nowhere near 40). And, like the character in the film, I felt shy and awkward around women, and fell into the vicious cycle of the longer I went without experience, the more embarrassed I became about it and the more difficult it was for me to overcome that embarrassment and approach women. But, that’s just about where any similarity between the movie’s protagonist and myself or any other real guy is likely to end.

Too bad.