Man Secrets — Revealed

Ladies, forget philosophy, psychology, psychiatry and gender studies.  Forget IQ tests, Briggs Myers and the FFM personality model.  In fact, forget it all, even the deep, dead of night heart-to-heart talk.  There is only one way to get to know anything about a man’s real personality.  The only way to determine what kind of a guy you’re dealing with is to ask him to make four simple choices.  And then ask why?  The answers will tell you everything you need to know about that particular man.  Because every heterosexual man on this planet has already thought about this — a lot — in the most intimate corner of his soul.

Wilma Flintstone or Betty Rubble?

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Ginger Grant or Mary Ann Summers?

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Veronica Lodge or Betty Cooper?

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Daphne Blake or Velma Dinkley?

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Here are some examples of what I mean.

Answer: Betty — ‘Cause Wilma is never going to leave Fred.
Analysis: This guy is not all that smart.

Answer: Ginger — Look at her!  She’s gorgeous.  We’d make the perfect couple.
Analysis: This guy has way too much ego and not very much money ’cause he obviously doesn’t own a mirror.

Answer: Betty — ‘Cause Veronica is such a total bitch.
Analysis: Eventually, I’m going to have to smother this guy in his sleep.

Answer: Daphne — Well, Velma’s kinda dumpy.
Analysis: Asshole!


But don’t take my word for it.  Try it for real!  Because this might be the reality.

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But at some point, every man in the world sees this.

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Vive La Différence!

oscar wildeI like women.  This isn’t just heterosexual brag: I actually like the company of women.  I was blessed with the coolest thing in the world — sisters — which, as everybody knows, are moms without the mean streak.  So, I grew up with women.  I understand that the battle for gender equality is more than just who puts the toilet seat where.  However, I also know that women are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable traits that make them totally different from men.  Folks, try as we might to commit gendercide on our society, the two sexes are different. Until we recognize that, there can be no equality.  To that end, here are some inconvenient truths.  (But always remember that stereotyping people is a dangerous practice– especially when it works.)

Male sexuality is a dart game.  A man throws his darts.  They penetrate the board.  He adds up the score, mentally compares it to that of every other man on the planet and spends the rest of his life lying about it.
Female sexuality is a Rubik’s Cube.  There are an infinite number of combinations, but only one or two actually solve the puzzle to anybody’s satisfaction.  Playing with a Rubik’s Cube is both fascinating and frustrating — and addictive.  And, BTW,  just because you own the Cube doesn’t mean you know the correct combination.

Women see an elegant woman dining alone and think there must be a sad story there somewhere.  Men, on the other hand, think, “What the hell! It’s worth a shot.”
Men see a handsome man dining alone and think “Gay.”  Women, on the other hand, think. “Gay, but what the hell! It’s worth a shot.”

Women think weight loss is the first sign of a better life.
Men think weight loss the first sign of a terminal illness.

When women call each other “bitch,” ” skank,” or “whore,” they are angry.
When men call each other “ass wipe,” “crotch rot” or “numb nuts;” these are terms of endearment.

For men, women wearing Victoria’s Secret lingerie is sexy.
For women, an Armani suit is lingerie.

Men believe that PMS  doesn’t actually exist and women are just naturally bitchy in varying degrees.
Women believe that PMS is a monthly pain in the ass that, when properly manipulated, becomes a super-convenient emotional “Get Out Of Jail Free” card.

And finally:

Men think they have no idea what women want.
Meanwhile, women believe they know precisely what men need.
Both of them are wrong.

Valentine’s Day: A User’s Guide for Men

I’m probably the most romantic creature on this planet.  I cry during the love scene in Mr. and Mrs. Smith, for God’s sake!  However, it has recently come to my attention that Valentine’s Day has gotten way out of hand.  It used to be that the only people who were getting rich off romance were those grubbers down at Hallmark.  I’m not one to brag, but I’ve bought a card or two in my time.  These days, however, come February 14th, it seems like everybody’s got their hand in your pocket.  Cupid has gone commercial, and he’s charging megabucks for those arrows.

Back in the day, when love didn’t come at the end of an eHarmony questionnaire, people had love affairs.  (Relationships were what you had with your cousins and co-workers.)  For those of you under thirty, a love affair was that brilliant time when nothing mattered to you more than the dull ache of your heart, the sound of her breathing and the solitary sight of her in a crowded room.  In those days, no words remembered love, no action spoke its name and no credit card was its benefactor: the only cure was proximity.  Love meant close enough to touch, and when it didn’t — it hurt.  That was when Valentine’s Day was still special.  It was the unspoken promise that couples made to each other.  But enough about that: I’m here to bury St. Valentine, not to praise him.

(Before I go any further, and the politically correct crowd start organizing the lynch mob, I realize that relationships come in a variety of permutations and combinations.  Unfortunately, I have a limited working knowledge of much beyond the male side of male and female.  Therefore, that’s what I’m dealing with; anything else would be just guessing.  If you’re looking for all-inclusive or if heterosexual offends you, stop now and re-Google.  It will save us both a lot of time.)  Personally, I think it’s a sad day when people need to put a disclaimer on innocent stuff like Valentines, but such is the world we live in.  Anyway …

Recently, Valentine’s Day has taken a distinct turn for the worst.  It has gone from a simple “Be my Valentine” card at dinner to over-the-top romantic gymnastics that would make Casanova wonder WTF.   Here’s the problem.  Regardless of how much they lie to themselves and others, men do not know what women want.  They never did.  They’re never going to.  And that includes romance.  Yeah, yeah, yeah!  Men know all about the clichés: those moonlit walks everybody talks about, the candlelight, the roses and the hearts and angels’ music.  But when it gets down and dirty, single tear in the corner of the female eye, 99.99% of men are lost.  However, rather than admit that romance escapes them (like the last inmate going over the wall) they throw money at it.  This is a traditional male strategy that’s been backfiring since before Antony gave Cleopatra, Syria, Persia and all points east to make up for the annoying fact he wasn’t Julius Caesar.  Unfortunately, having once set these cash-eating bolas in motion, it was only a matter of time before they started spinning out of control.  These days, men are waking up on January 2nd, knowing that in six weeks, they better come up with something fantastic and poetic or ladylove is going to be pissed off until way past Labour Day.  And every guy older than Justin Bieber knows that that’s going to take some serious dinero.  It’s an anxiety trap that men have been building for themselves for the last decade, and it’s not pretty.

Therefore, since I am a public-spirited fellow and do not wish to see my brothers suffering needlessly, I’m going to let everybody in on a little secret.  I know what women want.  No, I’m not going to give that kind of information away free, but since I do have it, I can give all men a bit of advice.  Boys, put away your wallets and change your thinking.  Quit having a relationship, and try having a love affair.  Lovers don’t send bouquets of roses. (She’s not in love with the delivery man.)  They hand deliver a single flower.  Lovers don’t make reservations for romantic dinners, weeks in advance; they show up unexpectedly with a two hot dog lunch because it seems like a good idea at the time.  They don’t schedule together time with cooking classes, or dance lessons; they cook, they dance and they prefer the company of the one they love.  They don’t fit it in on Tuesday nights after yoga.  Yes, it’s a busy world, and there are kids and jobs and mortgages and insurance and on and on.  Big wow!  The truth remains that two people playing grab ass for a quick couple of minutes in the kitchen while the pasta’s cooking is worth more than any number of prefabricated date nights.  Lovers don’t have a script, and they don’t have a schedule.  They just enjoy each other’s company.

Tomorrow, guys, remember Valentine’s Day is for lovers – full stop.  It isn’t for people in “a relationship” who “have feelings for” each other.  That’s just a generous way of saying, “Maybe I don’t love you all that much.”  And of all the things that women want, that’s not one of them.