So what is it about the Y chromosome that makes it genetically incapable of dealing with smart, independent women? Is it true, as my friend Allyson observes, that when a man meets a smart, independent woman, his balls wind up in a Venti Starbucks cup that his mama keeps on the mantle next to his high school graduation picture? What could possibly be intimidating about intelligence and independence?
SMART INDEPENDENT WOMEN: How about intelligence and independence?
MATTHEW: They don't intimidate me.
THE AVERAGE MALE: What are you, crazy? If I want intelligence I'll log on to Wikipedia. And independence? I define independence as seeing anyone I want, whenever I want, with no strings attached. Why the hell would I want that in a woman?
MATTHEW: Oh I don't know--because you want an equal, maybe?
THE AVERAGE MALE: You mean competition?
MATTHEW: Equality doesn't necessarily mean competition.
THE AVERAGE MALE: [stunned] It doesn't?
SMART INDEPENDENT WOMEN: I can't believe I'm hearing this.
MATTHEW: So a smart independent woman is competition?
THE AVERAGE MALE: What else could she be?
SMART INDEPENDENT WOMEN: You afraid of a little competition, big boy?
THE AVERAGE MALE: Hell no. But I don't date it, and I don't sleep with it, and I damn sure turn and run like hell whenever it makes a move in my direction.
SMART INDEPENDENT WOMEN: Are those your balls in a Starbucks Venti cup, or are you just glad to see me?
THE AVERAGE MALE: You're a feminist, aren't you.
SMART INDEPENDENT WOMEN: Oh will you just hurry up and marry a younger version of your mother already? [To MATTHEW:] See what we have to put up with? I'm Hermione and every guy in the world is thicker than Ron! Boys are STUPID!
MATTHEW: Let's throw rocks at them.
SMART INDEPENDENT WOMEN: I hosey the boulder.