Men have a tendency to sprawl. You're sitting on a train next to a man, he spreads out all over the place while you're squeezed into the corner. Hence the term, "spreading his seed" (imagine explaining that one – "It wasn't sex, it was the subway!"). Maybe because men come with three attachments, they need more space.
Men have to pretend to have big egos even if they don't. They might be as self-conscious as a redneck at a Maya Angelou poetry reading, but they have to act like they think they're hot stuff. Especially in a bar. "She's looking at me. "No, she's looking at me." "She thinks I'm hot." What she's really thinking is, "I wish those two assholes over there would quit staring at me."
Colors are simpler for men. Their wife or girlfriend might say, "Honey, should we go with the mint green or the chartreuse drapes?" His response is, "Yeah, green's good." A lot of men have selective vision. They can see a tiny ball a quarter mile away under a layer of dirt, but they can't see a pile of clothes in the middle of the floor.
Men tend to be more visual, while women analyze and verbalize. Men don't seem to need closure. We need to say stuff at the end of a relationship. "Well, I guess it's better this way, since you don't like camping. I also didn't feel comfortable making a serious commitment to a perpetual adolescent who wears seersucker. I wish you the best, and I hope you have a good life. Maybe someday we can be friends." To which the man responds,"Yeah, bye." A man gives a woman a look, and she tries to figure out what it means, what he's thinking, and what's behind it, when what he's thinking is, "Wow, nice boobs."
Women say I love you by saying, "I love and adore you more than anything in the world." Men say I love you by cleaning the bathroom. Many communication issues can be resolved when a woman understands that she's rejecting a man's attempt to express his feelings when she complains, "Honey, why did you move my tampons?!"
Men and women handle the beginning and end of relationships differently. The beginning of a relationship for women is like wading in cold water. We inch our way in, and when we've reached crotch level we're committed to getting wet. Men plunge in, flop around on their bellies like spastic fish, run back to shore for awhile, decide to go for it and dive back in headfirst.
Men grieve differently than women when a relationship ends. They stagger around in a bathrobe, haggard and unshaven, with pizza stains on their beard stubble and beer cans piling up in the corner. This goes on for a couple of weeks, then they sleep with somebody, and they're over it.
Or so they think. In reality they're a blight on womankind. Believing they've tossed their emotional baggage out the window, they're oblivious to the fact that it's landed on some unsuspecting woman's head. Eventually they emerge, relieved everything still works. Women will go about our business as usual, squashing our feelings until we explode in a psycho-superwoman episode. We may build a bonfire with his discarded toiletry items. We may dye our hair blue. We may run for President. We may remain celibate for months, maybe years, afterward. We may even contemplate what life in a convent might be like. Then we say the hell with it, screw somebody's brains out, buy a douche and put it in his medicine cabinet, and we're healed.