Maxim, June 2000

After more than a decade of observing women and their behavior, I have become something of an expert on the subject, and I have reached the following significant conclusions: Smell nice. Soft.

Beyond that I’m stumped. No amount of dating and mating has led me any closer to the reasons women live entire days based on their horoscopes, bake cookies and try to make their friends eat them so they’ll get fat, or pretend they never, ever go number two. I’ve decided it’s time for some real research. In an effort to understand women better-and, I hope, learn how to more effectively bend them to my will-I will mimic a few of their inexplicable everyday behaviors.


Bizarre broad behavior #1:
Talking to hairdressers about their sex lives

I hate to think what my girlfriend’s hairdresser knows about my fetishes and shortcomings. I can envision him snapping his fingers and swinging his head around in a circle, all the while exclaiming, “Girl, do tell!”

I wish I had a fab hairdresser to confide in, but all I’ve got is Mike, the chubby son of Russian immigrants. He wears a lot of gold and speaks with a New York accent, as in “Fuhgeddaboutit!” He is definitely not “all that.”

With a tape recorder strapped to me, I get in the chair. I’m nervous because I don’t know how Mike will react. Also, he’s holding a big-ass pair of scissors next to my head. He starts snipping.

“My lover doesn’t satisfy me.”
“Wha?”
“My girlfriend doesn’t make me come.”
“Oh.” The scissors stop snipping. “Oh,” Mike adds.
“There’s no foreplay. I need romance.”
Mike, to his credit, hangs in there. “Well, maybe you guys should talk.”
“What? Tell her my problem?”
“Yeah, you know, tell her.”
“If she loved me, she’d know.”
“Nah, ya gotta communicate.”
“Maybe you’re right.”

What I learn: A) Mike cuts hair faster if you freak him out, and B) fast haircuts are not always the best haircuts.


Bizarre broad behavior #2:
Acting overly body-conscious

My girl calls my new haircut messy-chic. I call it a fucked-up haircut. If she weren’t happy with her hair, she’d obsess about it-and every other perceived shortcoming she had-for days. I give it a try. She perches on my lap and kisses me.

“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Come on…” She tickles me.
“Stop,” I whine. “Don’t play with my fat.”
“Well, why don’t you go on a diet, then?”
“Don’t try to solve my problems!” I blurt. “Sometimes I just need you to listen!”

What I learn: Regurgitating “womanisms” at your girlfriend is a good way to make her really, really angry.


Bizarre broad behavior #3:
Withholding sex

I can’t count how many times a done deal came undone when we got back to my place. I decide I’m going to be the one who gets her all hot and bothered and leaves her hanging. Ha-ha!

What I learn: Some things a man cannot do.


Bizarre broad behavior #4:
Ridiculing friends’ outfits behind their backs

Is there some special satisfaction that comes from tearing down your friends’ wardrobes? I give it a try at my Saturday hoops game. Forcing myself into a split as far as I can go, I whisper to Lucas, “Look at Noah’s shoes.”
“What?”
“His shoes. They totally clash with his shorts.”
“Are you serious?”
“Totally.” Rolling my eyes, I add, “And he does not have the body for that jersey.” Lucas suddenly decides to run some laps.

What I learn: It’s easier to post Lucas up if he thinks you’re gay.


Bizarre broad behavior #5:
Wearing ridiculously tiny backpacks to clubs

My girlfriend has a tiny backpack. It’s that green color they invented a few years ago, and it’s fuzzy, and it could carry maybe one tangerine. I try it on and I’m tempted to kick my own ass.

Maybe it’s so tiny, nobody will see it, I try to reassure myself.
Immediately upon my entering the club, it’s seen by some white-baseball-cap frat guys.
“Nice purse,” says the leader, inciting general mirth.
“It’s a backpack,” I snap and hurry to the bar. Three girls, intrigued by my backpack, sit down to talk. Hmm…
“What’s in it?” one asks.
“My keys. My immense-penis-reducing cream.” She turns away, but the backpack lures her friend in. “People bother you?” the friend asks.
“Sometimes. Those guys did.” I indicate the white-hat frat guys.
“Ugh! Blue-shirt-khaki guys. At least you’re different.” The girls and I do a shot, and then we all go to the bathrooms together.

What I learn: A) My immense-penis-reducing-cream line sucks, and B) chicks call white-hat frat guys blue-shirt-khaki guys.


Bizarre broad behavior #6:
“Does my ass look fat?”

Really, it’s the same ass you had yesterday, honey. Does chanting this mantra achieve an unknown stress-relieving effect?
I invite a few hoops buddies over for March Madness. Knowing they’ll miss any subtle enlargement, I tape 50 plies of Bounty to each cheek and steel myself for their mockery. The doorbell rings.

I pass out beers and some cookies I baked earlier. During a commercial, I get up and stand in front of the TV. The consensus is that I should get the fuck out of the way, until…
“Guys…does my ass look fat?” The hail of chips abruptly halts.
“Get out of here! What?”
“Do these jeans make my ass look fat?” I revolve and thrust my padded butt at them. Silence reigns until…
“Actually, dude, it does.”
“Yeah, what happened?”
“I don’t know…I’m bloated. Josh, how do you stay thin?”
“Dunno.” Josh grunts through a mouthful of potato chips. He can eat whatever he wants and never gain a pound. I hate him.

What I learn: A) The laughter of others hurts, and B) if you bake cookies and try to get your friends to eat them, they’ll assume they’re laced with Ex-Lax.


The bottom line: Gentlemen, I have gone where no man has gone before. I’ve studied the behaviors of women, reenacted them with painstaking accuracy, and what I now know about the female sex I can share with mankind. What I know is this: Smell nice. Soft.