Chick Flick Movie Quotes

The Notebook? You own The Notebook?" Cam stared at me blankly. "What's wrong with that?" "Oh, nothing is wrong with that. It's just such a...uh, chick flick." "I'm confident enough in my masculinity and sexuality that I can say that Ryan Gosling is just dreamy in this movie." My jaw hit the floor. The blank expression slipped away and he started laughing. "I'm joking. I don't own The Notebook. Never watched it. Didn't bring any romance movies.

Jessica: 'This is a chick flick. You're either trying too hard or gay.' Wade: 'One: I was brought up to be polite. That means to think of the other person first. I thought you would enjoy this movie. Two: Most of the other movies are abou tkillings, bombings, explosions, resulting fires, and have big body counts before the opening credits are run. I don't like those movies. If that makes me a girl, okay. Three: I do like movies about sports. Of any kind. I think that makes me less of a girl. But none are playing tonight. Four: The woman in this movie is hot. Let's cross gay off your list. Five: I gave up trying too hard awhile back. Didn't work for me.

If life is a movie most people would consider themselves the star of their own feature. Guys might imagine they're living some action adventure epic. Chicks maybe are in a rose-colored fantasy romance. And homosexuals are living la vida loca in a fabulous musical. Still others may take the indie approach and think of themselves as an anti-hero in a coming of age flick. Or a retro badass in an exploitation B movie. Or the cable man in a very steamy adult picture. Some people's lives are experimental student art films that don't make any sense. Some are screwball comedies. Others resemble a documentary, all serious and educational. A few lives achieve blockbuster status and are hailed as a tribute to the human spirit. Some gain a small following and enjoy cult status. And some never got off the ground due to insufficient funding. I don't know what my life is but I do know that I'm constantly squabbling with the director over creative control, throwing prima donna tantrums and pouting in my personal trailor when things don't go my way. Much of our lives is spent on marketing. Make-up, exercise, dieting, clothes, hair, money, charm, attitude, the strut, the pose, the Blue Steel look. We're like walking billboards advertising ourselves. A sneak peek of upcoming attractions. Meanwhile our actual production is in disarray--we're over budget, doing poorly at private test screenings and focus groups, creatively stagnant, morale low. So we're endlessly tinkering, touching up, editing, rewriting, tailoring ourselves to best suit a mass audience. There's like this studio executive in our heads telling us to cut certain things out, make it "lighter," give it a happy ending, and put some explosions in there too. Kids love explosions. And the uncompromising artist within protests: "But that's not life!" Thus the inner conflict of our movie life: To be a palatable crowd-pleaser catering to the mainstream... or something true to life no matter what they say?

Confession time: I doubt I would ever have picked up one of Marjorie’s books, had I not met her in person. The reason is they’re categorized as Romances, which is where they are shelved in bookstores. Though I have no justification for avoiding it, the romance section is an area in bookstores I seldom wander into. Her novels also have traditional-looking romance book covers, which are occasionally a bit off-putting to us mighty manly men. Then again, who knows? I don’t carry many biases where good storytelling is concerned. I’m willing to find it anywhere, as too many of my friends will attest, when I try to drag them to wonderful movies that they aren’t eager to go to, simply because they fall under the chick-flick rubric. So, in any case, I’m glad I did meet Marjorie Liu in person, because it would have been a shame to miss out on the work of an author this talented due to whatever degree of cultural prejudices I might still possess. I trust you who read this won’t make the same mistake.

Why couldn't Mr. Darcy, in the first half hour of the movie, simply walk up to Elizabeth and say, "Hey, I like you. Do you want to go out on a date? And, by the way, I'm filthy rich." I'll tell you why. Because that would defeat the purpose of a chick flick, which is to entertain women and torture men.

Bottom line—chick flicks are laughingly unrealistic. Like, ‘Oh, these two are so different and hate each other so much, but—wait. Are they so different after all?

There was this movie that I would watch with her all the time, some stupid chick flick, and it had this opening line that would always make her catch her breath. 'I remember it hurt. Looking at her hurt', and I now realize that it was true. Every day I looked at her, it hurt. Hurt so much, because she was dying, and I couldn't help her.

The rain is colder than I expect—which is ridiculous, since it’s March. My cheeks are freezing by the time we go two blocks, my hair has a sodden weight on my shoulder. My glasses are so wet I need to shove them in a pocket. I threw Mom’s pullover windbreaker over my sweatshirt before leaving the house, thinking it would be waterproof, but I am so wrong. By the time I make the final turn for the church, I wonder if I’m stupid for being out here. It’s pouring so hard that a haze has formed around the streetlight, and I can barely see anything through the darkness. My sneakers squish in the grass. I get to the spot where we sat for the last two nights. And of course he’s not there. I sigh. Only a complete moron would go meet in the rain. Then Texy woofs and bounces on her front paws. I turn, and it’s like I’m in a chick flick. His shadowed figure lopes across the grass. Okay, maybe the dark and rain make it more like a horror movie than a romantic comedy, BUT STILL. He draws to a stop in front of me. He had the sense to wear a heavy, waterproof coat over his hoodie, but the hood is soaked and rain drips down his cheeks. “Hey,” he says, his voice a little loud over the rain. I’m blushing. I tell my cheeks to knock it off. “Hey.” “I wasn’t sure you’d show up, but I didn’t have a way to text you …” “I had the same thought process.

In the comedy department, I have the latest Vince Vaughn and Will Ferrell movies. For action, I have a James Bond flick and another where a bunch of shit blows up. And I have The Notebook.” I whipped around, almost dropping the silverware. “The Notebook? You own The Notebook?” Cam stared at me blankly. “What’s wrong with that?” “Oh, nothing is wrong with that. Its just such a… uh, chick flick.” “I’m confident enough in my masculinity and sexuality that I can say that Ryan Gosling is just dreamy in this movie.” My jaw hit the floor.

One day I saw that The Notebook was out on DVD so I bought it. I will fully admit to enjoying a good chick flick every now and again. I didn’t really think Brandi would stay home to watch with me, so I scooped up Colston in my lap and turned it on. I knew it was sad and I prepared myself for what I thought was the sad part. I had my wall up in front of my emotions and knew this movie wasn’t going to get me. So the sad part came and I didn’t tear up, and I think, I’ve beaten Nicholas Sparks in this battle, and I relaxed. Then out of nowhere the movie hit me with another sad part. I was not expecting that. I thought to myself, Oh no, I am going to ugly cry. I sat Colston down in his bouncy chair and walked out of the room. I thought he was too young to see his father crying.

When I watch a movie or read a book, be it a melodrama or horror, I always hate the female character... Well, most of the time I do. Why? Because she is always dumb. I shit you not. For example in this one chick-flick movie, "Serendipity", Sara tells that Jonathan guy that she won't give him her number because if they are meant to meet again, they will. Seriously? Romantic movie my ass, there's not anything romantic in letting go of someone when you can grab them with both of your hands. That is not romantic, THAT is stupid. In another movie the girl storms out, never hearing the guy out, just like in that one book I've been reading recently, "Tangled". Now this is an issue with most of the books and chick-flicks. Like why? Why won't you stop a minute, take a deep breath, count to ten and listen to the guy. Only after that, for God's sake, say ‘fuck you’ then ‘Namaste’ and then walk away while swaying your hips like there is no tomorrow? Let them know what they will be missing for the rest of their lives. In some other movies I hate the main female character because of the scriptwriters. The girl somehow always appears in front of the guy out of nowhere. Like he can be walking down the street and then boom! ABRACADABRA! The main girl bumps into him in NYC out of all places. They make it seem like whatever they do their steps always bring them back to each other. Dumb, I know.

I remember when all you ever talked about was finding a guy and getting married. You'd hog the TV, watching those sappy chick flicks --" "Then I grew up and learned why they always end the movie after the guy and girl get together. That's when everything falls apart.

More of a movie guy myself.” Then he added nonchalantly, “The two kinds of action movies.” “Two kinds?” “Yeah, the Bruce Willis kind, and the chick flick kind.” “How are chick flicks action movies?” He looked a little embarrassed. “Well, you watch one with your wife, and that night you get some…” “Ah. Action.” A sly smile and a nod.

Romance primes her body for the bedroom. But for men, it may have the opposite effect. (Dylan & Sara/Stocksy) Turns out, there may be a scientific reason why movies based on Nicholas Sparks novels are called “chick flicks.” Watching romantic movies revs women’s sex drives — but it also dampens men’s desire to hit the sheets, according to a new study in the journal Archives of Sexual Behavior. In the world of sex research, there’s a theory about sexual desire called the “incentive motivation model.” That’s a technical way of saying arousal starts with a rewarding stimuli (for example, seeing your partner naked), which automatically leads to a boost in below-the-belt blood flow. Once you realize your body is responding, your mind joins the arousal process, which only heightens your physical response, compelling you to seek sex. As simple as that sounds, the first step — the sexual stimuli that kicks off the whole arousal process — can vary dramatically between men and women. Take porn, for example. “In a lot of research, when women watch porn movies, their body reacts — they’re genitally aroused — but they don’t feel anything,” lead study author Marieke Dewitte, an assistant professor of clinical psychological science at Maastricht University, told Yahoo Health. However, “we know that if you let women watch porn that is more female-oriented, embedded in a story, they respond with more sexual arousal.

Let me tell you about my favorite day of the month, properly dubbed my A.D.I.B. (stands for All Day In Bed). On that designated day, I will buy candy, chocolates and order any fast food meal of my choosing. I will then spend the rest of my A.D.I.B. in my pajamas on the couch, watching a movie marathon. I’ll watch the corniest chick flicks, the most romantic of dramas, and the cheesiest comedies. I will also pour myself a relaxing hot bubble bath with aromatherapy beads while reading a magazine. That entire day, I am off the grid and completely unplugged!

shorts, he reached for her. “Did you find something you want to watch?” he asked, guiding her head to his chest. “Yep.” She flipped to the movie channel and chose what could only be called a chick flick. “For real?” “You can pick the next one,” she said, giggling at his distress. “I’ll make sure there’s