There was a moment in the early noughties when romantic comedies hit their peak.
We'd fallen in love with Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal's chunky knits and witty banter in When Harry Met Sally.
We'd watched a wholesomely awkward Hugh Grant bumble his way into a relationship with Julia Roberts' Anna in Notting Hill.
We'd felt warm and fuzzy inside when Mark Darcy told Bridget Jones he loved her 'just as she is' in Bridget Jones' Diary.
Romantic comedies had become a staple at the box office and in our own personal DVD collections.
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We knew exactly what we were going to get when we sat down to watch a rom-com and for the most part, they delivered.
They offered the perfect balance of rom and com. They were comforting and fun. And they made us believe in magic if only for the 96 minutes of running time.
Then somewhere around 2010, romantic comedies began to shift.
The comedy soon began outweighing the romantic, and frat boys ending up with women way out of their league, plus a plethora of penis and poo jokes, started dominating the genre.
There's only so many explosive diarrhea storylines you can sit through before you start to wonder whether we've all lost our way a little.
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