I just finished reading Gone Girl, and feel as though I should be more unsettled about the many small ways in which the male protagonist — a suspect in his wife’s disappearance — reminds me of two different men I’ve known.
One in a sweet, “Aw, be my husband!” way, and another in a “Grow the fuck up and use your words, you goddamn man-child” way.
I’m seeing the movie this weekend and am pretty sure Affleck will be perfect casting. Super dreamy, but yeah, I do instinctively just want to punch him in his chin dimple. Well done, Hollywood.
Smug Singleton 