Because I’m a man, when I lock my keys in the car I will fiddle with a wire clothes hanger and ignore your suggestion that we call a road service until long after hypothermia has set in.
Because I’m a man, when the car isn’t running well, I will pop the hood and stare at the engine as if I know what I’m looking at. If another man shows up, one of us will say to the other, “I used to be able to fix these things, but now with all these computers and everything, I wouldn’t know where to start.”
Because I’m a man, when I catch a cold I need someone to bring me soup and take care of me while I lie in bed and moan. You never get as sick as I do, so for you this isn’t an issue.
Because I’m a man, I can be relied upon to purchase basic groceries at the store, like milk or bread. I cannot be expected to find exotic items like “Cumin” or “Tofu”. For all I know these are the same thing. And never under any circumstances expect me to pick up anything for which “feminine hygiene product” is a euphemism.
Because I’m a man, when one of our appliances stops working I will insist on taking it apart, despite evidence that this will just cost me twice as much once the repair person gets here and has to put it back together.
Because I’m a man, I must hold the television remote control in my hand while I watch TV. If the thing has been misplaced, I may miss a whole show looking for it (though one time I was able to survive by holding a calculator.)
Because I’m a man, I don’t think we’re all that lost, and no, I don’t think we should stop and ask someone. Why would you listen to a complete stranger? I mean, how could he know where we’re going?
Because I’m a man, I think what you’re wearing is fine. I thought what you were wearing five minutes ago was fine, too. Either pair of shoes is fine. With the belt or without the belt looks fine. Your hair is fine. You look fine. Can we just get out of there now?