In “He’s Just Not That Into You” (2009), Gigi (Ginnifer Goodwin) isn’t dating Alex (Justin Long)…yet. “I’m pretty sure that something’s about to happen between us!” Gigi says perkily. Gigi is always pretty sure.
Alex runs the City Supper Club (actually Duda’s Tavern in Baltimore), where he bedazzles Gigi, a regular customer, with pearls of heterosexual wisdom that teeter precariously between brilliance and bullshit.
“Look, I know what blowing off a woman looks like, okay?” Alex bloviates. “I do it early, I do it often. So trust me when I say if a guy is treating you like he doesn’t give a shit, he genuinely doesn’t give a shit. No exceptions.”
Unbeknownst to Alex, Gigi has constructed an entire worldview around his preachings. With contagious glee, she reframes Alex’s cynicism as a recipe for empowerment, which she recites for her coworkers, Beth (Jennifer Aniston) and Janine (Jennifer Connelly).
“All of my friends used to tell me stories about how things might work out with these dipshits because they knew someone who dated a dipshit like mine and that girl ended up getting married,” Gigi explains. “But that’s the exception. We’re not the exception, we’re the rule.”
Though Gigi’s colleagues seem troubled by her hard-won wisdom, it’s difficult to deny that being alone is better than being with a dipshit. “You won’t let me go out with guys who don’t like me,” Gigi deadpans to Alex. “It’s kind of limiting.” And liberating.
Until Alex throws a party, that is. By then, Gigi is convinced that she’s the exception—and that Alex’s eagerness to inundate her with “inside dating information” is a smokescreen for a crush (when he tells Gigi, “Don’t start doodling my name on your binder,” he looks ready to hand her a pen).
“I’m sure I’m more than just a guest!” Gigi insists. To prove it, she picks up empty beer bottles, mixes up dip, and hoists bowls of snacks over her head to keep them from being scattered by boisterous partygoers—anything to help her claim the girlfriend-adjacent mantle of “co-host.”
Like a soldier refusing to surrender, Gigi is the last guest standing when the party peters out. “Hey, thanks for staying and helping me clean up,” Alex says dismissively. “I really gotta go to bed, though.” “Is that an invitation?” Gigi asks hopefully.
One of Alex’s most immortal maxims is “If a guy wants to date you, he will make it happen.” This time, it’s Gigi who makes it happen, pouncing on Alex, kissing him, and triumphantly declaring, “I knew it! The best relationships grow out of friendships!”
Judging by Alex’s immediate responses—“What are you talking about?” “Did I ask you out?” “Why would you do this?”—you’d think he’d been asked to share a bottle of Diet Mountain Dew with J.D. Vance, not jump into bed with Ginnifer Goodwin.
With prosecutorial flair, Gigi lists all the “signs” that Alex likes her: He said “Good to hear from you,” he took her call when he was with another woman, and she “felt something.” Yet as she speaks those last two words, her conviction starts to fade from her voice.
“Why do women do this?” Alex rants. “Build up this stuff in their minds, take each little thing a guy does, and then twist it into something else? It’s insane!”
His sexist diatribe complete, Alex storms into the kitchen to grab a drink. It’s the perfect moment to immediately cut to Gigi, but instead, the camera (wielded by the late cinematographer and former Academy president John Bailey) gently pivots to her hardening expression.
“You think you’ve won because women are expendable to you?” Gigi asks, her voice magnifying. “You may not get hurt or make an ass of yourself that way, but you don’t fall in love that way either. You have not won. You’re alone, Alex.”
As Gigi seizes her purse and strides toward the door, Alex watches her with wounded bafflement, absorbing her tearful, defiant farewell in silence. “I may do a lot of stupid shit, but I know I’m a lot closer to finding someone than you are,” Gigi tells him.
Once Gigi is gone, Alex remains frozen in place, looking thunderstruck and physically ill. The diagnosis? Love at first fight.
