Hall Pass

"Don't get any funny ideas," she said as we sat down to watch the movie. And she said it in her I'm-only-half-joking tone, so I knew to keep my head straight as we watched the flick about a guy who gets permission from his wife to fool around with other women in an effort to save their marriage.

Although I was conscious of the decision to keep my inner 13-year-old Id in check, I realized early that I could never use a "hall pass," even if granted one. Casual sexual relationships are more complicated -- and perhaps even too complicated -- for any benefit they produce, and require a perspective on life that I just don't have at this age. I love my wife more deeply and more completely in my 40s than I did in my 20s and 30s; despite the day-to-day challenges that come with raising a family, I can't imagine wanting to live a different lifestyle.

I can't imagine wanting -- or needing -- a hall pass.

My inner 13-year-old Id loved Hall Pass. It howled at Jason Sedeikis' efforts to get laid, and his inept attempts to please women in order to please himself. My Id snorted at the gratuitous shots of boobs and butts. I even heard my Id call Owen Wilson's character a pussy once because he backed out of talking to the hot chick who worked in the coffee joint. My Id thought that Hall Pass was awesome, and wanted more.

On the other hand, I had a sense of contentment and satisfaction after watching Hall Pass. Because I'm not that guy. And I don't wanna be.