Man's Take Magazine

Why Men Can’t Understand Women

 Are Women Crazy?

 There are some interesting puzzles out there waiting to be solved. I personally would rather solve the mysteries of time travel, create a working model of cold fusion, and write a thesis on who built the pyramids before I tried to explain the mind of a human female. This bit of psychology makes calculus seem simple. I’d much prefer to find the area underneath the woman than try to identify her decision making process.

In all fairness, I am being 100% stereotypical. Men have their idiosyncrasies, but they can often be explained by an overabundance of testosterone and instinctive self-preservation tactics such as fight or flight, and seed-spreading initiatives.

With the right information, in most cases, we could trace the behavior of a man back a few steps and figure out what motivated him to make seemingly unusual decisions. I think I could finish reciting pi before I got to the root of the female decision making process.

What makes matters worse is the sheer unpredictability. Even pure random chance can be predicted over the long term. That’s what keeps casinos in business. But no Vegas bookmaker will ever place odds on which way a woman will react at any given time.

Just to clarify, I’m not suggesting any evil lurking within women (ok, maybe a smidgeon). I just want to get why they do things, so I have some clue as to how to act. Why aren’t there more professional female poker players, anyway? Seriously.

Let me give a quick example. You’re interested in a girl… so you give her a look that says you notice her and like what you see. You’re not too obvious, and you don’t use a menacing stare like a serial killer. She quickly diverts her eyes and stalks away before you can break the ice or poison her Kool-Aid.

The next day you overhear her talking to a friend about how you looked at her. Creep! Oh my god! How dare you! Loooooser!

But you’re intelligent. You learn from this little lesson and pluck out your eyeballs so you can never stare again. Ok, maybe that will have its own repercussions… Forget that. Keep your eyeballs.

Let’s say instead you clandestinely observe the next foxy female to dash across your life. You talk to her and she seems rather lukewarm. You end up being friends, and two months after she marries your disgusting lout of a best friend she confides that she always had a crush on you. But you never even looked at her twice, so she knew you didn’t feel the same way.

Oh come on! You can’t win for losing. The lesson I’ve learned is to never rely on subtly with women. Tell them how you feel when you feel it. When you don’t feel anything, which is probably most of the time, just tell them how you think you’d feel if you weren’t a hairy man-ape, but rather were an endless well of emotion. That’s right… lie to them.

My next piece of advice is never pass up an opportunity, unless guilt or religion (and thus more guilt) runs strong in you. Here’s a story so crazy it must be true (and it is… from my own life in fact).

I met an absolutely gorgeous girl. She was flirty, daring, and even a little intelligent. Despite being around 24, she claimed she’d only had sex with a handful of men (liar), and that she would not have sex unless she was in a committed relationship (liar liar). Of course I could ignore all that. Remember, she’s as hot as welding torch, only she doesn’t leave permanent red spots in your vision.

We’ve only gone out twice before when one sunny afternoon I call her and say, “Hey sexy thing. Can I come over and see you?”

“I have to work tonight.” She replies coolly.

“Can I come over before you go to work? I’d just like to stare into those beautiful crystal blue eyes of yours…” (Remember, you need to lie. Let’s call it a fib.)

“Well, I guess you can come over. But you have to promise me…”

“Promise what?”

“You have to be good.”

“Oh I’m good… I promise.”

“I’m serious!”

“Me too…”

“Listen, you have to be good. No sex. Absolutely none. If you try anything with me, I swear I will never speak to you again.”

“Uh ok.” (Ouch)

“I’m not kidding. You have to promise before you can come over that you will be good. And you need to keep your promise.”

“Ok, I’ll be good. Promise.”

 Despite my capacity for a fib here and there, I am a man of my word. I keep promises. Sorry if this disappoints you guys. Yes, this little oath is going to totally ruin my story and my reputation. I’ll just repeat my apology now.

Anyway, I got to her house and she was wearing a teeny tanktop so short I could see the underside of her bare D-cup breasts when she stretched. The material was so thin I could clearly trace the outline of the gold ring through her nipple. The only other stitch of clothing she had on was a pair of cloth gym shorts so short I caught a glimmer of her clitoral hood piercing when she sat on the sofa. I swear I’m not even joking (or fibbing) about this. And no, she wasn’t a stripper or prostitute. Not yet at least. Give her time.

So instead of staring into her crystal blue eyes, I end up sucking face with her. Believe it or not, I actually asked her if that was considered being good. She said it was ok.

The rest of the story is too painful to admit in detail, so I’m going to summarize. She teased me and then when I had to leave in 6 minutes, she told me we should have sex right then. Like a fool I asked, “What about my promise to be good?”

She only shrugged.

I am an idiot. Don’t say it. I already know. I’ve had years to think about this. And, it only gets worse.

Suffice it to say there was no sex because I said I wasn’t going to break my promise. In my defense, there were five reasons why we didn’t have sex right then. One, I was stupid and naïve. Two, we didn’t have any condoms. Three, I was stupid. Four, by the time my will was broken and we only had a couple of minutes. It seemed silly to ruin our first time with such time constraints (what kind of sentimental bullshit is that?). Five, I was stupid.

I know… booo… hissss… I get it now.

Here’s the best part. We had a date scheduled for the next week, and she blew me off (not in the good way). In fact, I didn’t see her again for two years. Want to guess what she told me when I did see her?

As soon as I left that fateful, sexless day, she went to the restaurant where she worked. I actually talked to her on the phone at one point that same evening because she was bored. I think she thanked me for keeping my promise. Just wait until you hear how she thanked me later.

Apparently some guy walked in that night and they got to talking. He wrangled a date with her, and set it up to be before my date with the crazy chick.

Directly after their date, they had sex, and they ended up dating for over a year, until he started to beat her. Yeah, people are great aren’t they?

Did I mention that on their first encounter she asked him if he wanted her equally hot roommate to join them in bed? And, uhm. I’m told he refused. Apparently he wasn’t much smarter than me. She shared all this with me when I saw her two years later.

Anyway, she told me that if we had sex, and had I violated the promise I was forced to make, she wouldn’t have had sex with this other guy… that would have been wrong. She would have dated me instead, and invited me to have sex with her and her hot friend. If you could see the tears in my eyes right now, you’d know this was entirely true.

Last I heard she was working at a strip club. Who ever would have guessed? The story is true, the underlying emotions may be entirely fabricated on her part. In fact, I’m sure they were.

So I’ll end this with one of my favorite lines from the late George Carlin, “Here’s all you need to know about men and women: women are crazy, men are stupid. And the main reason women are crazy is because men are stupid.”

That girl was definitely crazy. I was definitely stupid. But I was stupid because she was crazy (and hot), so I think this equation works backward also.

One final thing I want to say before I close out this article… My wife is perfect and none of this stuff applies to her (just in case she ends up reading this).

Related posts:

1. Crazy Dating Stories