Men and Women Shopping

I think one of the fundamental differences between men and women shopping might explain why you see Massengil commercials, and not jock itch ones. Take a man and woman clothes shopping, for example. If that 34/32 doesn't fit the guy, he'll walk out. End of discussion. He's got better things to do than try on 200 pairs of pants. (Unless we're behind him telling him he's not getting laid looking like a scrub. See, we're selling sex again!) Women? Most of us aren't happy till we've tried on 2/3 of the Junior's section, forget the fact that we're overweight and 30 and those pants went out of style 40 lbs ago. Dammit, we'll try on the whole damn rack until convinced it's not going to work.

It's a difference in philosophy when shopping, probably tied to hunter/gatherer instincts. That guy wants to go in, find his prey, kill it, and go home where we'd damn well better have dinner cooked. Women's gatherer instinct has us gathering anything that fits in a cart, and picking out the best we can find. (For that dinner we're gonna make him pay for. I didn't spend $80 on shoes to cook!)

However, this does not, to me, explain men's enthusiasm and entertainment in random gadgets. If you take a man and a woman shopping, and both of them are firmly convinced they need a new cordless phone for the house, the scenario will play out relatively similarly. The man will come home with a phone with 6000 buttons, a 5.5 mile range, 23 handsets, programmable for 7000 numbers (he only calls his mom and his buddy Jim, but dammit, it can hold 7000 numbers!) and operates off diesel fuel. God knows why he thinks he needs all this shit, but need it he does.

The woman? She comes home with what was “on sale for a really good price honey!” or the one that matches the living room. Or her favorite shade of lipstick. Or a fantastic shade of purple. It might not even be cordless when she's done, but damn it sure does look pretty. She takes one look at the phone her husband got, gasps, and declares she'll never know how to work the damn thing, and she's the only one that uses the phone anyways, and did you remember to call your mother for her birthday?

But as long as women maintain our gatherer status, and we allow advertising to make our decisions for us (or really pretty colors make our decisions for us), we're going to be patsys to whoever makes our favorite Tampax commercials.

Douche Commercials

Have you ever been comfortably sitting in front of your TV, enjoying some show (not on the Lifetime channel as that invalidates the results), and suddenly your senses are assaulted by some asinine commentary on which brand of douche/tampon/sanitary pad one uses? (As opposed to an unsanitary pad?) These inane wastes of television space nearly always involve a mother/daughter, sister/sister, or best friend pair discussing, in public locations, things that women just don't talk about. I have zero clue which brand tampon my sister uses. I have no clue when the last time my mother douched is. I'm absolutely OK with this lack of knowledge.

But armed with this knowledge, and the hubris of teenagers, my sister and I one day embarked upon the journey to embarrass as many people as possible, by staging douche commercials for public consumption. We'd wait until surrounded, and start asking “well, what do you do when you just don't feel fresh?”

The looks on people's faces were priceless. The shock people experience having what's generally a natural bodily process discussed was amusing, to say the very least. The snickering we got made it worth while. The gay guy telling us “well, douche of course!” was icing on the cake.

Which leads to the question: why don't we see jock itch commercials on TV? Why are men forced to watch two overly perky women (especially since they're theoretically PMSing) discuss which sanitary napkin leaks least, while I never get to see men squirm over their jock strap being displayed on TV? Just once, I'd like to see a man try to explain what “Fungibegone” does to his girlfriend.

All Women are Prostitutes

I have a theory, and it's run nearly my entire life... the theory that all women are prostitutes. Now, before you turn away, there's definitely some logic to the theory.

First off, sex is a basic, natural function that every human being enjoys in some form or another. Or we feel really sorry and mock them behind their backs (and possibly to their faces) at some point. But, frankly, she with the pussy makes the rules, and pussy is power. As women, we know that. We might play coy, we might pretend we're not using our Pussy Power to our advantage, but quit deluding yourself. Every time you've flashed an ounce of cleavage to get your tire changed by someone who'll do it 10x faster, you're selling sex. You've just got men attempting to negotiate your price.

Some women will flat out say “I won't have sex till the third date.” Honey, you just put a hard cash price on your worth. Dinner x3, movie x3, maybe a coffee... $150 and you're purchasable. Congrats! You're a whore! Some women will run a credit check. Honey, you're really a whore. Some women require diamond rings and wedding bands first... they're fuckin expensive. Downside is, they're usually the worst lay of them all, at least say my friends who've tried out the virgin experience. Keep up with your kegels, ladies, and you won't need to worry about staying a virgin. You'll be tight enough, and still know how to give an adequate blow job.

And, at the end of the day, what's wrong with prostitution anyways? Is it truly any worse, any less degrading, to have someone offer you $300 for a BJ and some pussy action than it is to have him buy you 4 drinks at a bar, and take you in your car? Maybe even ask for a number, pretend to be interested, only to find out you, too, were a prostitute for a night?

All women are prostitutes. Men want to know our prices, and pay the least amount possible. Get comfortable with the concept, and you can possibly increase your own profit margin. And wear a low cut blouse. Might as well flaunt the assets... it makes you worth more.