Send the marines

Ladies, I have to give you credit. When you get your girls together and head out to a bar, you don't go all willy-nilly like we guys do, when you go out you move like a well-trained military operation.

You're strategic. You stake out your position in the bar, and you watch out for one another. If a guy tries to make a move on one of your girls, you flank him in from all sides. If his buddy tried to come in and help, you have two girls intercept him and dance with him so that he never even makes it to his friend.

And if one girl wants to go, even if one of you is getting along with a guy you met, you all leave. If four girls go into a bar, there's four girls coming out. You're like the marines -- no man left behind.

Meanwhile we guys are the complete opposite. If one of our guys hits it off, or leaves with a girl, all bets are off. Even if you're in town from another country, and you are staying at his apartment, guy law states that you can't pull him away from the girl. Even if your buddy was the driver, and you live 200 miles away, tough luck. Pick-pocket his keys, call a cab or hike up your slacks, 'cause you're walking home, dude.

Once a friend of mine left his heart medicine in our buddy's car. Our buddy was dancing with two of the hottest girls we've ever seen, so under no circumstances could we interrupt him. My friend, a devoted follower of guy law, did what any honorable friend would do -- he left our buddy alone, pounded one last Red Bull and vodka, gave himself a 300-volt shock with the bar's external defibrillator, and limped home.