© Warner Brothers Pictures

As the end credits are disappearing into the ceiling my female companion turns to me and says “It’s like reading a Cosmo.”

And it was at that precise moment Burt Reynolds descended from his Miller Lite-soaked throne on Manolympus and robbed Morgan of all his man-points.

But she’s absolutely right, because this film embodies many of the neurotic, self-destructive qualities of that rag.

It’s not that I’m opposed to these kinds of magazines, but they’re notorious for perpetuating stereotypes and class differences with the ferocity of a fascist dictator.

When the February 2009 cover of Cosmopolitan reads “8 Things In Your Closet That Make You Look Chunky,” well, yeesh, I have emo friends writing poetry less depressing than that. And there’s nothing wrong with wanting to look good and feel good either, but if it comes at the sacrifice of self-esteem, it just seems like too high a price.

With that social commentary in mind, there’s He’s Just Not That Into You, a film based on the self-help book of the same name. It’s a romantic comedy starring…um, everybody.

Guess who they’re having sex with?

Everybody else.

But in all fairness, this isn’t really a bedroom blitz to the finish line, And not that I would’ve, y’know, minded. Rather it’s one of those romantic comedies described as “Like Love Actually BUT,” in this case it’s like “Love Actually BUT” 60 times more nerve-wracking.

Is guy meets girl not good enough anymore? Does it have to be guy meets girl, but guy is married to another girl who works with yet another girl that got rejected by another guy whose in love with the first girl?

And the relationships would be easier to follow if there weren’t a love heptagon going on here (that translates to a seven point love fest, for the tragically unmathematical out there).

When there are nine different major characters having seven different relationships over the course of two hours and ten minutes (a length which only good romantic comedies are allowed to get away with), it’s easy to lose interest in somebody who isn’t there half the time.

Presumably this is because they’re on the set of another, more interesting movie.

Drew Barrymore and Ben Affleck are the biggest offenders in this category, coming off like whiny plot devices to be yelled at and then cashed in at the end for some of that magical romantic comedic currency known as “hope.”

But hope feels pretty fake when all the characters are overblown and overexaggerated walking, talking stress tumors.

The movie acts like all women are supposed to be paranoid and neurotic, not that you’ll get any argument from me, and that all men are simple as dirt and go through life looking for brick walls to drive through.

And once again, no problems here, but are all people really reducible to the stereotypes the media awards them?

Yes, says Hollywood. And what’s more, Hollywood adds, when you have a fight with your significant other, you get treated to a melancholic little piano solo.

Do the math, seven relationships means SEVEN FRICKING PIANO SOLOS. Like there’s some guy with a Yamaha running mad from one end of Baltimore to the other so he doesn’t miss the pretty Hollywood people drying their tears with bazillion dollar contracts.

I’m picking nits here, but if there had been more actors participating in the time-honored pastime known as “acting,” the hate valve might have closed long enough to let something nice drip through.

Well, to be fair, Justin Long (“Mac” from the Apple commercials) is actually pretty funny as the wizened dating expert/bartender/man-whore.

In other romantic comedies, this character would be the one to show up at the end to bestow some universal love truths on whichever lead was being the whiniest, but here HJNTIY (worst. acronym. ever.) chooses to develop him as a normal character, as flawed and likeable as the rest of the cast should have been.

Also featured prominently among the cast are Scarlett Johansson’s breasts.

I’d say Ms. Johansson herself has a starring role, but the camera operator and the costume designer clearly only had two things in mind, if you get my drift.

And all could be forgiven if this were just funny.

Like, hilarious. Like, who cares that this movie doesn’t make sense, because it’s so funny I just peed myself a little.

Not that there aren’t laughs, but sometimes it just feels like they’re really reaching to crack a joke, even having a minute-long gag at a wedding about chatty, self-righteous Wiccans.

Wiccans. Really? Wiccans? That’s the best you’ve got?

The movie’s biggest weakness is, unfortunately, the very same reason it was made: to talk about how people in relationships act. The movie is armed to the Gucci with little asides and interview sequences meant to offer some kind of insight into the nature of love, but it treats every one of these side stories as if they were one big joke.

See, everyone knows that, if you’re in a relationship, you’re crazy.

But that’s kinda the point, kinda the best part.

HJNTIY, instead of trying to be serious for two seconds and be honest with the audience, is a hodgepodge of bad ideas from ten thousand other movies just like it, and anything it gets right feels purely by accident.

What this was supposed to be was chicken soup, but it’s really just cold Dinty Moore beef stew.

It’s not terrible, sure, but it wasn’t what you wanted.