>>> Primal Urges
By staff writer Nathan DeGraaf
July 19, 2006

Read more snippets...
Nathan: Wow. It looks like you’re really enjoying that chocolate bar.
Debbie:
Hell yeah.
Nathan:
Could I have a piece of that?
Debbie:
You take even the smallest bite of my chocolate and I will kill you. We clear?
Nathan:
Crystal.

I will never understand women.

And it’s not from lack of trying, either. More than anyone I know, I have devoted my life to understanding why women are the way they are, why they think the way they think, and why they love the way they love. And, after years of research, several columns on the subject, and many lust interests, though I have found several answers, I now have more questions than when I started.

These are just some of those questions.

Why all the coveting?

“Women deal with vaginal bleeding, child birth, and child rearing, yet they can’t kill a simple cockroach?”

I swear to Christ, every third sentence most women utter start with the words, “I want.” Most of the women I know don’t even want boyfriends or sex. They want a nice house, a nice car, lots of jewelry, and no responsibilities whatsoever. If I knew a dude who acted like this, I would beat the shit out of him. And I’m not even a violent person by nature.

Why all the bitching?

They really are happier when they’re complaining about stuff, aren’t they?

Is food really that great?

Honestly, it’s a fucking chocolate bar. How can they enjoy that so much? Many women treat sweets the way I treat liquor. It can’t be that great… nothing is.

Why do they care so much about celebrities?

Most women treat actors and musicians like people they know. They discuss the lives of Jennifer Aniston and other movie stars and musicians as if those people have any real impact on their lives. It’s hilarious to me. I once told a female friend of mine I thought Jessica Alba was the hottest female in the movies, today. Big mistake. That friend responded by rattling off tons of statistics and opinions of Ms. Alba. I mean, this chick even knew Alba’s birthday. And she didn’t even like Alba’s work. That is ridiculous and sad.

Why won’t they kill bugs?

Women deal with vaginal bleeding, child birth, and child rearing (including ass wiping, spitting up, and several gallons of snotting), yet they can’t kill a simple cockroach? This one will never make sense to me. Never.

Why won’t they cook, anymore?

This one slays me. I would literally be married right now if any one of my five favorite girls knew how to cook and were willing to do so with regularity. Women, you dream of getting married to a rich man and having children and all that, right? Do you have any idea how much cooking with regularity ups your trade value? I mean, this is just insane to me. Give me a hot chick who cooks hot meals and that’s it. I’m done. Off the market, on the wagon, and settled down. Yet, in all my years of fucking, I have never had one hot chick who knew how to cook. I’m convinced I will die single because of this, by the way.

Why do they like me?

Seriously, this is one I’ve been trying to figure out for a long time. I’m crass, I’m usually drunk, I’m inconsiderate, and I have almost no interest in bettering myself as a person. And the worse I get, the more women I get. When I started writing this column way back in June of last year, I was dead sure that women would absolutely hate me. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Of the emails I’ve received from women, approximately two percent were negative in tone. The rest were all positive. Some emails to a degree that even scared the hell out of me. If I had a daughter, there is no way I would let her date a guy like me. Yet, I’m sure she’d do it anyway. Fucking women.

Why do they hate each other?

I did an informal poll a couple of months ago and discovered that women, for the most part, hate other women. They view the members of their gender as competition. When men view other members of the same gender in this fashion (if it’s not because they are actually competing against each other in an event or sport or something), they are considered insecure and downright sad.

I have given up trying to answer the aforementioned questions, which is why they appear in this week’s column. I seriously have no fucking clue. I’m asking (nay, begging) my female readers to answer these for me. I refuse to die without completely understanding women.

Thanks in advance for your help.

Join comedy classes at The Second City: Writing Satire for the Internet, Sketch Writing, and Writing for TV & Film start Feb 29. Use code "PIC" for 10% off by phone.