I've been intrigued by the movie EASY A ever since I saw the trailer a couple of months ago, so I went out and watched the movie this week.  (The trailer is below.  You're welcome.)

Did you watch the trailer?  All right, good!  So you now know that EASY A is the story of Olive, who stops being invisible after she starts a rumor about losing her virginity and then goes on a spree of fake-rocking boys' worlds.  This is an example of how empathy and the need to be noticed can be a really, really bad combination, yes?

Just so you know, there were a few things I didn't 100% love about this movie:  All of the adults were over the top (yet mostly hilarious, I admit) and the love interest was a little too perfect (although I understand why he needed to be for Olive's journey).  Also? Scary-judgmental cult-like Christian kids seem to be turning into a new teen movie cliché that both amuses and alarms me.

So what did I love?  Pretty much everything.  It is funny, the dialogue is superb, Emma Stone is AWESOME, and the message is really poignant, I think.

The scenes where everyone is staring at Olive and gossiping and texting about her exploits didn't always feel entirely like something that would happen in real life.  The details were exaggerated for the film, but I can say from experience that when your reputation deteriorates, that's what it feels like is happening, at least.

When I was in high school, I never intentionally fake-rocked anyone's world.  But rumors spread, you know?  I had more than the acceptable-at-my-Christian-rumor-mongering-private-school one or two boyfriends during my four-year high school career.  I kissed some (but not all) of those boys.  I did more than kissing with some (but not all) of those boys. 

By the time I was sixteen and in eleventh grade, I had a Serious Reputation and it just kept getting worse.  There were guys to whom I'd never even spoken (or met, in some cases) who would swear that they'd slept with me--or that one of their friends or cousins had.  It didn't matter if I denied it; no one believed me.  Interestingly, on the occasions when I did say that something happened with me and some boy--even if I said it as a joke--everyone would believe that.

She's out of control!  She's such a slut/whore/skank/tramp! 

I hated feeling so powerless.  I hated that no one cared about the truth because the rumors were more interesting.  I hated that I was supposed to feel bad about the times when the rumors weren't rumors.  Why was it anyone's damn business? 

I mean, really? 

Really.

One thing I can say is that being thought of as the Slutty Slut of Slut Town dramatically increased my empathy.  Sure, I'll listen to gossip sometimes, but I never automatically believe everything I'm being told.  In fact, I disregard most of what I hear second-hand about someone else's sex life. I don't revel in falls from grace.  Really, mostly, I just don't care what people choose to do.  It has nothing to do with me.

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