Male runners and chick flicks . . .

You've probably seen them. The horde of shirtless boys (even in forty degree weather), pounding down the streets of your neighborhood at the same time every afternoon. Maybe they trample your rose beds or scare your cat. Maybe their short shorts have given your twelve year old daughter some 'funny feelings'. You've heard them whoop, shout, curse. But what you don't know is that, deep, deep down in their hearts, exists the soul of true romance . . . somewhere underneath the stench of the locker rooms and piles of leg hair.

I'm talking about chick flicks

You see, sooner or later, those sweaty hellions will cram themselves into a bus filled with teenage girls to travel somewhere for a track meet. And they'll watch a movie on the way down. And if the girls happen to be my cross country team and the boys happen to have the odd lack of cohesion on what manly movie they want, the coach will end up sighing as he pushes a Nicholas Sparks fueled DVD into the bus player, resigning himself to an hour and a half of fashion, crying, and Channing Tatum's abs.

Now, sometimes, the boys regret letting the girls pick the movie. I distinctly remember watching one scene in Easy A--you know, the scene where she pretends to have sex with her gay friend so the other boys stop picking on him--and cringing as the boys' team freaked out around us. "What is this? What the hell are we watching?" Coach just stared at the screen in disbelief, frozen in a shocked position. I lowered my eyes as another boy shouted, "Ew! This is gross!"

But, generally, the boys were pretty decent about the movie choice. They'd put up a token effort to prove their manliness--like during that scene in How to Loose a Guy in 10 Days where Kate Hudson and Matthew McConaughey have sex in a shower. They'll say things like "Of course she's falling in love with him," and "I can't believe she's leading him on like that. What a bitch!" When I pointed out that McConaughey's character was also using her, they mumbled something about it not being quite the same thing and resumed sitting on the youngest member of the boys varsity squad.

Oh, and they were wearing nothing but short shorts the whole time.

Like this, minus the top. I can't post any real photos because I think that counts as porn.

But the absolute crowning jewel was the time we watched Dear John. Here's a quick plot summary: Guy falls in love with Girl. Guy joins the Army. Guy gets shot but survives. Girl marries dying man to take care of his kid. Guy's father dies. To quote one prominent member of the boys' squad, "We can't watch it. Because if we watch it, I'll like it, and then I'll know I'm gay." But watch it we did. And I swear, I have never seen a work of fiction dissected with such brutality as happened on that dark, sweaty bus filled with teenage athletes that evening. Boys who run without shirts on in freezing cold to prove their manliness were breaking down into tears.

"She's such a bitch! How could she treat him like that?"

"She only married him to take care of his kid!" said one of the girls, wiping her runny nose on her sweatshirt sleeve.

"No! She's evil and she deserves to die! How dare she leave him?" The mob of men quickly turned towards the girl who brought the DVD. "What is this? Why did you make us watch it?"

Needless to say, on the next trip, we all decided to watch 27 Dresses instead and spent the rest of the trip humming 'Benny and the Jets'.

Bring it up now, two years later, and they'll all insist Dear John is the worst movie ever made. I'll agree with them, but for very different reasons. Women of the world, if you ever meet a man who says he went to Thomas Jefferson High School for Science and Technology, graduated in 2012 or 2011, and happened to run on the cross country team, know that the quickest way to his heart is a heartbreaking chick flick. But be warned--he's probably going to end up crying on your shoulder.