Before I continue on with my relationship column, I have to admit that I have some questions about the opposite sex.

Let me level with you. I’m a smart enough girl. I’ve been around the proverbial block. I’m in my late twenties, and I’ve had sex with, I don’t know, fewer men than years I’ve been alive. More than the years I’ve lived in New York. Anyway, I think I have a decent grasp on men. But I’m no expert. There are certain male traits I just don’t understand. Most of them concern sports and dicks. Some of these questions I ask my boyfriend, and some may well have no answers at all.

For example:

Do all penises float in water? What about balls? Do balls sink?

Do men stare at themselves in the bathroom mirror for an hour inspecting their eyebrows and popping blackheads on their nose? Do they know that women do this shit all the time?

Why do guys like Kim Kardashian? Is it the hair? Is it the butt? I know a million girls with nice extensions and a big ass and no one jerks off to them. Just sayin’.

Is a guy’s G-Spot really in his asshole? Don’t make that face. Is it? That, uh, makes me uncomfortable. I was just never an up-the-butt girl. For me or for him. So sue me.

What’s with football? Do some men watch sports the way some women watch romantic comedies?  These testosterone-heavy males supposedly like to ogle the cheerleaders, but they’re usually taking a bathroom break during halftime. On the other hand, they definitely keep their eyes glued on the male-on-male action. Why do they freak out when their team loses? It’s not their team. They’re not on the team. Someone please explain this to me. Trust me, we’re all dying to know.

Do men actually like it when women give them hand jobs? And speaking of hand jobs, don’t men’s wrists ever give out? Jerking off looks like way more work than us ladies go through—and a lot messier. Who do they think they’re kidding with the lotion in their bathrooms? We know they’re not moisturizing. We know all about those crunchy tissues in the garbage.

If a remote control is an extension of a man’s dick, then you would think he’d be all for the woman holding onto it at night, right? Yeah, you would think.

Do men ever wish they could wear makeup? If not eyeliner, than at least cover-up for a bad pimple? Are they jealous of our mascara and our smokey eyes? We know they steal our tweezers. Do they ever steal our eyelash curlers? Do they secretly use all our good bubble bath?

Are clean-shaven lady parts really that sexy, or have men been conned into liking shaved vulvas the way women have been conned into paying for and suffering through them? Don’t they feel bad for us? They should. Do all guys shave their junk? Do they shave their butts? Do they shave anything we don’t know about?

Do men really know how much women like clitoral orgasms? I mean, I know they say they do, but ten years of experience says otherwise. Certain men should just give up and admit they have no idea what they’re doing in bed. Who knows, we might even (finally) get off on that whole student-teacher vibe.

Are ball sacks that itchy? I mean, why else are their hands always shoved down their pants? Aren’t nuts supposed to be cold? Shouldn’t men stop groping them, then? They look pretty uncomfortable. Aren’t they always in the way? Don’t they constantly bump and jostle? Or is that why they’re always groping them? Explain.

Do men really care if the woman they marry makes more money than them? Wouldn’t that take the pressure off? Wouldn’t they look forward to a household that didn’t depend on their own bread-winning paycheck? Wouldn’t that be sexy?


Men really don’t care what women wear, right? I usually get the impression that they couldn’t care less about our clothes so long as our asses look good in them. Because I’m pretty sure fashion is just a corrupted portmanteau of the words ‘feminine’ and ‘masochism.’

Why do men need to pretend they enjoy playing poker? Most guys suck at poker. Why can’t they just admit they want to get together with their friends and talk about their girlfriends without blowing their spending money to do so?

What’s a urinal cake? Sounds like one of those disgusting 100-calorie snacks.

And finally, why do men pretend all women can’t park cars, install air conditioners, do math, or read maps? The more men say this bullshit, the more some women actually start to believe it. Why can’t men clean up after themselves, remember important dates or, I don’t know, take their hands out of their own pants for long enough to figure out how to get a woman off? Just a suggestion.

Ladies, please send your men to the comments below. I’m ready for some tough answers to my ridiculous questions. And while they’re there, I suggest you steal the remote.