"What is it about women?" I asked as I peered down into my empty beer mug. "What is it that they do that makes us do such stupid things?"

"I don't think it's so much what they're doing, as much as what we're thinking," my friend answered, with a sway of his head.

"Hmmm? What do you mean?" I tilted my head towards the bar and scanned it for the bartender.

"I mean…" My friend shook a finger in the air. "What I mean, is, I mean… shit, what do I mean?"

"Maybe some more beer will clear your head."

"Yea. That's exactly what I—BURP—mean…"

I regarded my friend with an arched brow. "You know, maybe it's us. Maybe it's us who are the cause of the stupid things."

"What? Nah…" He rolled his head around. "You looking for the bartender? I got next round."

I looked down and studied my beer suds. "Maybe we're doing stupid things, and we only notice them around women because they call us on them."

"Where's that bartender?" My friend eyed the beer taps. "No, man, we're not doing stupid things. We're just doing what we want to do. Girls just nag alot." He reached over to the beer taps. "I'm gonna grab a quick refill. That bartender ain't no where."

He couldn't reach. So he climbed onto the bar and extended his arm and beer mug. With his other hand, he reached out for the tap. Without two arms to balance him, he began to wobble.

A second later—"Whoa… whoa… SHIT!"

And with a CRASH, he tumbled behind the bar. The bartender ran out and, with incredulous eyes, screamed, "What in the fuck are you doing??"

"Proving a point…" I murmured.

. . .

What is it about women that makes men do stupid things?