I read an intriguing statistic in the paper recently: Fifty percent of lingerie purchases are returned to the store. Theory one: Courtney Love wears it and then takes it back. But that can't be right. No store would accept used lingerie, especially lingerie with cigarette burns, lipstick stains, whiskey stink, and traces of doorman DNA.

Theory two: Women are overly optimistic in the lingerie store, but when they get home, they suddenly remember they're not Gisele Bündchen, and so the merry widow goes back.

Theory three: Men understand even less about women than dogs do about the bond market.

Now, that theory makes some sense. Here are five New Rules about women that I believe will help men understand them better.

1. Men never learned how to argue, so they lose every argument.

Back in the '50s, there was an episode of I Love Lucy in which Lucy feigned having a sunburn to avoid getting a beating from Ricky, all because she'd bought a new dress. But Ricky was Cuban, so everyone understood. In the same era, every week on The Honeymooners, Ralph Kramden threatened to punch his wife in the face so hard that she would reach the moon.

Obviously, things have changed. It's fun to imagine how Everybody Loves Raymond would have been a different sort of sitcom if, in addition to all his other lovable idiosyncrasies, Ray threatened to punch his wife hard in the face every time she annoyed him.

This, of course, is progress. We're all glad, or should be, that it became socially unacceptable to physically strike a woman, the same way it became unacceptable to cruise down Main Street with an open beer in your lap, or chain-smoke Pall Malls in the delivery room.

But that is our history. Men of old didn't need to know how to argue, because women were physically intimidated and in general more subservient. They only got the vote in 1920, for Chrissake!

But when a man could no longer end an argument with "Why, I oughta . . . , " he at that point needed to learn how to debate, or he would always lose the moral high ground, and that's what happened to men. It's why utter nonsense became society-sanctioned, politically correct truth. For example: "A man could never tolerate the pain of childbirth."

We've all heard it and just accepted it, because when women realized men hadn't adapted to verbal jousting, they of course took advantage and said anything they felt like and just dared men to challenge it. And, of course, we couldn't.

But honestly, there are lots of things men have endured that are more painful than childbirth. Torture is worse than childbirth. Does anyone seriously think if you could choose between having a baby and having a hot poker shoved somewhere private, you'd pick the latter? Delivery may be painful, but it's also joyous and positive — a loving act; not so with torture, in which you're just dealing with the merciless animal that is man.

More nonsense: "Being pregnant is sexy." No, it's not. "She's glowing." No, she's sweating. You're not gorgeous, you're pregnant. You're not sexy. You were sexy. That's what got you pregnant.

2. Women want to get married. Girls just want to have fun.

That's it, that's the main difference, and you have to know which one you're dealing with. "Having fun" is a lifestyle. "Finding someone" is an agenda. Women can't help wanting commitment at a certain age.

What's changed in the modern world is that women work and don't need a man, so they will no longer marry a loser just to be married. They still want to be married, but not if it's going to be to some ne'er-do-well, drunk-ass punk who watches TV all day and eats all the food. Alone is now an option, one that society frowned on before. Years ago, fathers passed daughters on to husbands like chattel, which of course still goes on in primitive parts of the world, like Uzbekistan, and Kansas.

3. Above all else, women want men to be confident.

Confidence speaks to women's biology of finding a mate who can handle himself and protect the nest. If you don't believe me, watch ElimiDate. The chicks, without fail, eliminate the shy, nice guy before the complete jackass. There's always one total jerk among the four guys competing for the girl — a guy we've all seen and who's to be avoided like open sores on a hooker. And does he win? No, not always, but he never gets booted off first!

Even though he's a stinky, loutish scumbag and proud of it, at least he lets the woman know he wants to nail her, and failing to do that is cardinal sin number one. If you are one of the contestants and you fail to sufficiently allay the girl's doubts about your wanting very badly to put your lingam in her hooha, then you must leave. For that, there is no hope.

Maybe the jackass will be struck by lightning outside the Islands Bar, where this cheap show is taking us, and start to act normal, she's thinking. But the shy one? No hope there.

4. Bisexuality among women is almost always bullsh--.

With the exception of a few underage models on European assignments and almost anybody on Ecstasy, in general, women really don't want to share your penis with other people. They're funny like that. But, nowadays, they think it looks square not to be into chicks a little. What do drunk girls do whenever they're not getting enough attention? Drink more and rub on each other and dance together seductively, like they can't wait to hurry home and hop into a hard-core daisy chain. Bisexuality must be implied if a woman is to trump, or at least keep up with, the other fronting little hussies in da club.

"Wow, man, I think she's into girls!"

Calm down, faithful Maxim reader. This is not going to turn into something that makes you wish you had a grotto. No, she's just putting some chum in the water. That's all most hot girl-on-girl PDA is, chum in the water.

5. Women are different than they used to be.

Especially about sex. That was the biggest change to come out of the sexual revolution and women's liberation. In the workplace, women still have obstacles and headaches that men never have to think about — coming off as "bitchy" if they're too assertive, knuckleheads with crushes, sexual harassment — the list goes on.

But in the personal sphere, I can say, having spanned dating eras, women have come a long way as far as allowing themselves to think of sex as something for their pleasure, not a commodity to be withheld. I came of age when poontang was embargoed from panting male suitors, for purposes of not giving away the milk for free, and thereby forcing said suitors to buy the cow.

I know it sounds stupid. Because it was. It's a much more confident woman who disdains the false security of keeping a man interested only because he hasn't nailed her yet. Such withholding of sex made a statement. And that statement was, "There's nothing interesting about me except my vagina."

They say the difference between heterosexuals and gay men is that heteros say, "I have to get to know you before I have sex with you," and gay men say, "I have to have sex with you before I get to know you."

Well, as with most social and fashion trends in America, that's probably where heterosexuality is headed — straight to Fire Island.

New Rules for Real Men

Gentlemen, it's very simple. Acting like a man doesn't have to mean acting like a moron. From his new book, here are Bill Maher's New Rules for male self-improvement.

Your hamburger can't be bigger than your ass. Denny's Beer Barrel Pub in Clearfield, Pennsylvania, is offering a burger that weighs 15 pounds. One sign your portions may be too large: if one of the health risks is a back injury.

* Cuddling is for girls. The latest rage in New York City is "cuddle parties," at which men and women just . . . cuddle. Participants say it's not about sex, it's about intimacy. No, it's about sex. You're just so neurotic and emasculated that you've skipped the screwing entirely and gone right to the boring part afterward. The only time a man should say, "I need a hug," is if he's choking.

I don't care how big or flat it is, it's still just a TV. Congratulations — you just paid $10,000 to watch Hogan's Heroes.

When the penis-enlarging pills you bought fail to enlarge your penis, don't file a lawsuit. Yes, I'm talking to you, Michael Coluzzi of Burlington, New Jersey. You see, Michael Coluzzi, lawsuits are in the public record, and now everyone in Burlington knows that you, Michael Coluzzi, have a shameful secret.

There's no such thing as "flavored water." There's a whole aisle of this crap at the supermarket. Sorry, but flavored water is called a soft drink. You want flavored water? Pour some scotch over ice and let it melt.

Lap dancing is a First Amendment right. Lap dancers are artists expressing an idea called hope: hope that someday a skinny young woman with artificial breasts and a navel piercing will want to have sex with you. Without that hope, mil- lions of American men might as well just throw themselves into the sea.

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