Sunday, July 22, 2007

The Ravages of Intelligence

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.

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