Last night Andreas walked to our local indie video/DVD shop to grab a movie for us. Dre and I are notorious for our disparate taste in films. I go for escapism (comedies, musicals, quirky indies, etc) while he goes for cultural impact (dark foreign films, thoughtful indies, etc). When he headed out last night, I told him to get whatever he wanted. If I was interested, I’d watch.

And what did Andreas have in his hand when he walked back in the door? “Under the Tuscan Sun,” aka “That divorcee romantic comedy about real estate.” I laughed and laughed and laughed at him.

“You brought home a CHICK FLICK,” I chided. He looked baffled and protested, “it’s about moving to the European countryside.” For those following along at home, moving to Provence and setting up a music studio/writing factory is the pipe-dream of choice around our house, so I had to shrug and agree that yes, this was also a movie about moving to the countryside and eh, what the hell. I’d watch it.

I’m totally ashamed to admit that I actually really enjoyed it. Granted, it was pretty shmaltzy (Ooh, another movie where a heartbroken American woman travels to a foreign country and gets her groove back under the careful tutelage of a dark-haired foreign hunk!), but Sandra Oh was funny as hell, and the countryside vistas were gorgeous. Afterwards, Andreas and I had to sit and talk about how T.’s husband is a realtor in Provence, and he says that chunks of land with stone houses sell for about €55k — less than $70k. Hmm. Compare this with the $200k for a 1br condo in Seattle.

So kill me: my boyfriend brought home a chick flick and I enjoyed it. Sorry.