Star Magazine via Celebitchy – Ryan Gosling brought movie fans to tears in The Notebook. But on one date, it was Ryan who turned on the waterworks.
“He was the best lover I’ve ever had,” recalls a curvy blonde, who shared a night of passion with Ryan after meeting him at a nightclub. But once the lovemaking was over, things took a turn.
“I thought I heard him sniffling,” she says. “Then I realized he had tears gushing down his face. I asked if he was all right, and he said he gets emotional sometimes.”
Ryan Gosling’s one of those dudes I want to hate but don’t. He doesn’t strike me as a chill kind of bro like Bradley Cooper does but his movies are perfectly fine and he seems fairly level-headed for a guy women obsess over. Chicks like him because he seems emotional, hence that whole “Hey Girl” meme his face was plastered all over or the reaction to how he’d have an unplanned child with Eva Mendes because he wants to be the father his dad never was. But crying after sex with anyone strikes me as creepy as all hell, even for the most die-hard Notebook fan who’d sell off a first born to get a ride on the Gosling Express. I don’t care if the girl is the love of your life, a random slob, or if you found out your entire family drove down a cliff right before you popped off, my general rule of thumb is you’ve got to keep those tears bottled safely away where they belong and save your cries until the fat girl steals all of your cold cuts and bulldozes her way on out of there.
That said, every actor’s got a bit of a sissy boy streak so it comes with the territory. And I speak from personal experience. It may come as a surprise given all of the cool Internet bravado permeating off my every blog and tweet but I once had the faintest dreams of being an actor when I went to USC. It was a different time; Nickelback was the most popular band in America, people wore visors, no one hated George W. Bush yet, just lots of weird stuff. And, unfortunately, as a theatre minor at a pre-professional school, that meant getting headshots as a course requirement. As far as I know, this photo has never been posted online but it’s a Friday afternoon and, because I feel like Ryan Gosling needs my support now more than ever, I’m going to share this side of myself with you guys.
See the thing average Joes don’t get about guys like Gosling and me is that, yes, the exterior is sometimes gruff and clad in very early-2000s leather jackets, boy band flow, and left ear piercings. But beneath the stone-cold outside is a different beast, one whose soulful eyes reveal a man of complexity. Emotion. Sometimes it’s crying after sex with a rando, sometimes it’s being overcome with emotion while the romantic subplot of Little Nicky unfurls because you just broke up with the girl you lost your virginity to sophomore year of high school. It’s called depth. And if Gosling wants to dump equal amounts of tears and semen out after banging some club chick, so be it. We’re but flesh and blood and beating hearts clinging to every moment of humanity. We’re alive, alive in a way most can only dream of. Me and you, RyGo. Ride and cry or die.