Watching Dirty Love, it isn't long before you start to wonder if this is based on McCarthy's own shallow reality. After all, she's the one who wrote this vapid dating odyssey, which she doesn't seem to realize is more about making her unfaithful ex-boyfriend jealous than actually finding true love. Until the end, that is, when she tacks on a clichéd, fairy-tale ending in which she gets together with the average Joe, as you always knew she would.
Of course, despite the lengthy voice-over that crops up at the end to give the proceedings weight, she ultimately learns nothing and only chooses the right guy because it ties into something a psychic told her at the film's beginning in a silly scene you'll have doubtless forgotten by that point. Oh wait, did I just ruin the ending? No, McCarthy beat me to that.
Those wishing to ogle McCarthy and Electra will be disappointed, too. Electra is annoying with her bad ghetto slang, and McCarthy only bares her breasts once—when they are covered in vomit. But it was clear from the beginning that this film and nausea were sure to meet.