I am writing a screenplay with another writer back in Los Angeles. We get along well, but waste a lot of time getting into ridiculous arguments on the phone about the direction of the scenes. The problem is that we have different word views about men, women, and relationships. I am married. He is not. I have interests that could be considered “metrosexual” — like enjoying Broadway musicals. He is more of a guy’s guy who watches sports every night. I find many of his ideas sexist and filled with stereotypes. What bothers me the most, is that I have a nagging feeling that his views better match that of the average American movie-goer, who is usually an idiot.
We are working on a comic scene where our two lead characters go to a bar, try to talk to two hot babes, and then get rejected for some funny reason. He calls me with an idea:
“The two guys are talking to the hot girls, both with great tits, and everything is going well, and then the bartender brings the guys over their drinks — and it is two mojitos — and the girls look at them funny, as if they are gay, and then split.”
“What? I don’t understand.” I ask. “The girls with the tits LEAVE because the guys ordered mojitos?”
“Yeah, they think the drink is gay.”
“That is ridiculous. I like mojitos. I thought they were supposed to be trendy. And no girl is going to leave because a guy ordered a mojito.”
“You haven’t been to the bar where I go.”
“That’s because you go to some stupid redneck bar. Which is a little weird, considering that you are Japanese. But our characters live in Hollywood. They’re cool guys, like the guys in Swingers. They would have no problem ordering mojitos in a hip bar. And no girl would have a problem with a mojito, or think they are gay. I’m not putting that into any script with my name on it.”
“Ok, so let’s make it like they order two of those fruity drinks with the umbrellas?”
“Like Mai Tais?”
“Exactly.”
“I like Mai Tais, too.”
“They’re pretty gay.”
“What is the matter with you?   Are you saying that if I go into a bar and order a Mai Tai, everyone around me will think I am as gay as Clay Aiken.”
“Yes.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“What do you know? You never go to bars.”
“Well, make believe it was a Tiki bar, like Trader Vics.”
“Our scene is not in a Tiki Bar.”
“Still bullshit. And I don’t appreciate these lame gay stereotypes.”
“Why, are you gay?”
“No, I’m not gay.”
“So, what do you care?”
“Because it is stupid. You know, the next time I am in a bar, I’m going to order a Mai Tai just to f*ck with your mind.”
“Not with me there.”
“Are you homophobic or something?”
“No, but if I am in a bar wanting to get laid, I’m not going to give off the message “I am gay” to the girls by ordering a mai-tai.”
“So, what are you saying — that if you order a scotch, you’re sending the message, “I have a big dick.”
“Even gay guys will say a mai-tai is gay.  Ask one.”
“You want me to ask some gay guy if he thinks a mai tai is gay? That’s insulting.  There is no such thing as a “gay” drink. There are gays who like lemonade and gays who like Diet Coke.”
“Ask around. Ask all the women on your blog. I guarantee that they’re all going to say that if they went out on a date with a guy and he ordered a fruity drink with an umbrella — that something is different about this guy.”
“What if I was Hawaiian, a manly Hawaiian, but this drink reminded me of home.”
“Even Hawaiian guys don’t drink those fruity drinks with umbrellas.”
“What if I just came back from Hawaii, where I f*cked seven different girls, and I am drinking this Mai-Tai because it reminds me of how manly I was while I was there, and how I f*cked a different girl every night, and I tell this story to one of the girls, and she gets totally turned on by me drinking a fruity drink with an umbrella, because she knows it means I am a total stud.”
“Sorry. She will still think it is gay.”
“What if after I finish the drink, I take the umbrella and stick it in my arm without showing any pain, to reveal how manly I am.”
“OK, you got me there. Then she would f*ck you.”
“Great. Let’s write that scene.”
Three Years Ago on Citizen of the Month:Â Â The Funeral
