Hall Pass exposes eye-candy admiring as one of man’s great techniques
JOE writer William Nestor took a trip to the cinema with his better half at the weekend and came away a shaken man after Hall Pass exposed a treasured man techinque that resurrected embarrassing memories.
I had the misfortune of taking my girlfriend to see Hall Pass at the cinema over the weekend.
Misfortune not because of the storyline or gags in the comedy (you’ll piss your pants laughing at Owen Wilson and Jason Sudeikis), but because early on in the film they reveal and confirm one of man’s most treasured techniques – how to stare at women and get away with it.
The lads are both married but are nonetheless still a pair of horndogs who still think they’re in college and can pick up women with relative ease, to the amusement of their wives who finally give in to the idea of a hall pass (a week off from marriage to do whatever they want).
Anyway, I cowered in my seat when Sudeikis – playing Fred, who likes to jerk off in the family car, advises Wilson – starring as the perfect hubbie Rick who fantasises about getting his babysitter into bed – lets one of the ultimate cats out of the bag; that we men constantly stare at women. Whether we’re married, dating, single or divorced, it doesn’t matter. We glare and stare, and most of us are good at getting away with it.
Advice
It must be said though that Sudeikis passes on some exceptional advice when it comes to staring at women and not letting your partner catch you at it. Firstly, he says that you should see a hot woman heading in your direction from a good 15 feet away.
Next, you need to very quickly map out in your mind which way she will walk and then look in that direction before she gets there so that she passes into your line of sight. Your lady can’t possibly blame you for staring at another woman, as how could you have possibly predicted a lovely pair of knockers appearing before your eyes? Well, the truth is you could, you did and you still can.
Staring at women, however, has many different levels, varying from stalkerish to married-man-not-getting-any, and women can testify to this. On questioning a few of the pretty faces in the neighbouring offices to JOE Towers, I was told that not all women like the attention (I don’t believe it for a second) and most of those who are in relationships are already well aware of our eye-balling antics.
“It’s a bit of myth that women like guys staring at us, I think,” said one female working just a smell away from us.
“I mean, when I’m out walking I don’t want to be ogled by some creepo,” she offered.
And that should set us straight fellas. Avoid the stalkery habits, don’t let the eyes wander after her all the way down the street or while she’s making her way to the loo in the restaurant – you’ll definitely get caught in a closed space like that, whether it’s by your other half or the disapproving waitress.
Seconds & minutes
I think that the majority of us, however, are subtle enough when it comes to checking out a woman. Sure for God’s sake, we think about sex every 52 seconds (according to neuropsychiatrist Dr. Louann Brizendine) so we have to be well capable of taking a discreet glimpse on a regular basis.
Even the most powerful men in the world can’t resist a good old stare, as we can see from the snap of Obama and Sarkozy below. 43 minutes per day, in fact, is the length of time one study found us men dedicate to casting the eye in the direction of the opposite sex.
Berlusconi must have been just out of shot
As you can see, glaring at women doesn’t always work out the way we expect, as I found out through what was probably the most embarrassing situation of my life.
Lamped
It must have been about seven or eight years ago when I was walking through the Phoenix Park on my way to an open-air gig. It was a scorcher of a day. I was well tuned up for a good time and, although I was accompanied by my sister for the gig (I was ready to ditch her once we got inside), I planned to go on the hunt for some ladies.
Anyway, we were making our way through the park and I noticed a gang of girls, about 20 or so, getting their picture taken for the paper. They were crackers, the lot of them. Of course I couldn’t peel my eyes away from what was going on across the road. We were walking at a fair clip and then suddenly, WHAM. I smacked my head right into one of the lamp posts lining the path.
I think, even through all the hysteria of a photographer taking a picture, the girls across the street copped what had just happened.
The pain was excruciating but worse again was the fact there were a good few people coming behind us. All I remember is one fella – who had seen the entire scenario unfold – bursting his hole laughing, while a few decent souls stopped to see if I was alright.
It took only a few seconds for my sister to realise how I had managed to split my head and it wasn’t long before a nasty lump formed and blood began to trickle down my face. I think, even through all the hysteria of a photographer taking a picture, the girls across the street copped what had just happened.
I attempted to continue along our route to the gig, telling my sister I was grand and fobbing off the concern of some passers-by, until an ambulance pulled up alongside us to add to the mortification.
There was no way I was getting into an ambulance before I’d even reached the gig and, thankfully, they left me be and we headed for our destination yet again. Regrets, I have a few, but turning down their help is possibly one of them.
By the time we reached the entrance I was faint and could barely stand up – and I’d gathered even more attention from revellers who jeered me whilst going through the stiles. So, it was into the Red Cross tent for some medical attention but, guess what? The nurse was a stunner. So maybe I was right to turn down that ambulance ride after all.
