Oh COME ON! This entire sad, tired, overdone stock plot is just one big allegory for the big, virile, rock-hard-faster-than-a-sneeze strong man finally bringing the frail, frigid woman to orgasm. TaDAHH!
I wish I had a thousand vibrators to hurl at every writer who keep reheating this plot and calling it cuisine. Think of something new, for fuck’s sake. Like — repressed witchy woman decides brooding, obsessive man is more annoying than a yeast infection in July, transforms into a dragon, and chomps his head off. And then pukes it up because it tastes like three-day-old boiled okra. That would be a plot twist.
