All Dressed Up & Nowhere To Hide

It is everyman’s dream. To be trapped in a dark room, surrounded by women.Well I have lived that dream and I can tell any guys reading this blog to be careful what they wish for, because it may come true and your dream could become a nightmare.

Like mine did.

It was a humid Sunday afternoon and before the pressure cooker heat turned my girlfriend and me al dente, we escaped into air conditioned comfort of Westfield Hurstville.

After spending the better part of hour walking aimlessly through any store that took our fancy we decided the best way to pass the time was to watch a movie. My only condition was that it had to be a movie where I did not have to think. In man speak this translates into guns, explosions, busty wenches and car chases.

I realised all too soon that in girl speak this translates into something completely different. It means “let’s watch a movie about bridesmaids’ dresses.” All twenty seven of them. Yes ladies and gentlemen, I was dragged to see “27 Dresses”. To any guy who does not know what I am talking about, be thankful because innocence is bliss.

Holding my hand, Marina led me into the cinema and to our seats. Trust me it was not a symbol of affection. It was so I would not run screaming back out the door. Can I just say girls can be incredibly strong when movies about weddings are involved. As we walked down the darkened aisle, I am not ashamed to say that I have never been more terrified in my life.  Yes, I was surrounded by women, but none of them were in bikinis or bringing me pie.  My fantasy had gone horribly wrong.

Once we took our seats, I surveyed the cinema and did a quick head count of all the males present. In a cinema that holds about 250 people, I counted four. We were seriously outnumbered and from the fearful expressions on the faces of the other guys, I knew they felt the same way I did.

Praying for an emergency evacuation, I turned back to the screen, burrowed into the seat and chose to make the best of my situation. I figured I could use this experience to help me understand the workings of the female mind and then use that perception to help me craft “real” female characters in the novels I plan to write.  Yes, I know this was a stupid idea, and I am sure I have a better chance of understanding string theory and its relevance to the creation and destruction of quarks in a dark matter universe. But I am nothing if not stubborn (it’s a Taurean trait) and decided to try anyway.

After the obligatory ads for feminine hygiene products flashed across the screen the first trailer began. After the first couple of minutes, my confusion about the female species grew exponentially.

This particular trailer had no plot from the get go. It went pretty much like this – a group of bad girls go to poncy English private school. They cause trouble.  The principal is a cross dresser. The girls realise that the school is in financial trouble. They suddenly mature and save the school by raising the money needed.  And no, they did not acquire the required funds needed using the wholesome methods you might find in an Enid Blighton novel about Malory Towers. These girls preferred the tried and true Monopoly method – “Go to jail and don’t collect $200″.  Apparently the girls thought the best way to raise money was to steal a painting and then sell it. Well I think that’s what they intended to do, because the trailer did not make this very clear.

When I told my two close friends Chondona and Palak, who are both well read and are critical of bad plots in books and movies, about the preview that was shown, their reaction was pretty much the same as the rest of the cinema. They were disturbed that something of this standard could pass for a movie. Wow, I thought to myself, when it comes to appreciating a good story, men and women are actually quite alike. Who was I kidding? Like a soap bubble my perception of womankind popped when a certain man appeared on the screen.  Some girls know him as God.  Others know him as “the answer to my loins,” while others just know him as Mr. Darcy. For the guys reading this and have no idea who I am talking about, think two words: Colin Firth.

As soon I mentioned these two words to Chondona and Palak, they forgot all about the lack of plot, the paper thin storyline and the plain outlandish waste of 90 minutes that the movie probably was and concurred, separately I might add, that it would be a great movie to watch.  And yes you are right in thinking that every woman in the cinema felt the same way. When Colin came on screen, every single woman sucked in a breath, placed a hand on their heart (my girlfriend included) and sighed as one. One woman even yelled out “I want to bear his children!”  And yes I made that it bit up, but from the plethora of heaving bosoms I am sure I was not far from the truth.

The lights dimmed, the girls cooed with excitement, the movie started and I was swamped by a tidal wave of oestrogen. No joke! There was so much hormones filling the theatre, I was afraid I would start lactating.

After ten minutes of watching the movie and trying to understand the machinations of the female mind, my head began throbbing. Instead of continuing to mull over the nature of womankind and in the process give myself a migraine, I focused my thoughts on the issue of global warming. Trust me it was an easier problem to solve. 

I’ll be honest there were jokes I just did not get.  There is a part in the movie where the leading lady Katherine Heigl (who plays Jane) is displaying each of her 27 bridesmaids’ dresses. Apparently this was the hook that was causing women to flock to this movie in droves.  Why? If I knew the answer to that question I would be rich. All I know is if there was a movie called “27 Suits”, I certainly would not rush out watch it.  Maybe if the movie was called “27 Bangs: Big Gunn’s Revenge”, I would, but “27 Suits”, I think not.  But no, it was all about the dresses.  When I was speaking to Palak, she could not wait to see the movie so she could check out the aforementioned dresses.  I just don’t get it. If the dresses were actually nice to look at, I would actually get where the ladies were coming from. But they weren’t nice; they were some of the ugliest creations known to man. Yet girls were happy to part with their hard earned money to inflict themselves to this ocular diarrhoea. If that is not masochistic, then I don’t know what is?  Why ladies, why? Oooh my aching head!

And you know what annoyed Palak? Not the fact that they showed these horrible dresses over and over again, but that during the start of the movie, Jane puts on a Sari in the back of a cab.  Me, I did not give it a second thought, but Palak would not let it go. She even rang to tell me how the writer should have done better research. After a phone call that lasted 30 minutes, I knew the in’s and out’s of Sari etiquette and I had temporarily lost hearing in one ear.   

This movie got me thinking though. Bridesmaid dresses apparently suck.  Me personally, I have never seen one that I have not particularly liked, but to every female everywhere, ALL bridesmaid dresses were the spawn of Satan’s personal seamstress.  So why doesn’t someone, preferably a female cause God knows a man would not have any clue what to do, and yes I am thinking outside the square with this idea, design a dress that is simple and elegant.  Surely it can’t be that hard.  A bit of cleavage, a high split up the leg and a low back.  It works every time. Well it works for me anyway.

But this blog is not about understanding how my mind works, because that is fairly easy. Just think of a gutter and my thoughts are usually down there.  And if you don’t believe me, read my blog about my night at Hooters entitled “Having a Hoot”.  This blog however is about getting a deeper understanding of the inner workings of the female mind. Which at this point reminds me of conundrum within an enigma swallowed by babushka doll wrapped in a mystery!

Why? Well even at the end of the movie, when stills from the movie (including all 27 dresses) were flashing up alongside the credits, every girl was happy to sit back and stare at each horrendous dress with doe eyed appreciation. And if you think that was bad, you should have witnessed the reaction to the wedding dresses that were featured in the movie. And yes I suppose I could write about the feelings of joy and elation that gushed through the cinema with each glimpse of a white lacy creation, but be thankful I don’t.  If I did, this blog would double in size and even then I don’t think I will be any closer to an epiphany about the female species.

But I guess I should not be too disappointed about my lack of understanding about ladies everywhere. Greater men than me have tried to unlock the mysteries of woman only to go insane and have their closet filled with designer straight jackets. And because I have all the straight jackets I ever need, I have chosen not to focus not on the movie I saw, but the movie it could have been: “27 Bikinis”