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Not really worth the trip.

These are the facts. There is no way around them.

The big chunk of The Female Brain that's called The Past?

That's a gene men don't really carry. When it comes to things that happened five or ten or even eighteen years ago-we have no recollection. Unless we're talking about sports or The Godfather Part One and Two or the Vanessa Williams issue of Playboy magazine. Your old boyfriends? You could have had thirty-seven of them-the only one we care about is the one who came right before us.

But every guy has had the experience of getting into an argument with his chick and she falls off the deep end, spiraling forth from whatever it was you just did wrong to spouting out general admonitions like You Never Listen and You Always Pull This Same Old Shit and the next thing you know she says this:

Remember that time at Stephanie's birthday party four years ago when we were talking in the kitchen to her and you got a beer and went out into the living room and I was talking to Stephanie in the kitchen for like another half an hour and I came out to make sure you were okay and you were talking to that tall blonde with the big tits in the tight white sweater and I gave you a look and went back in the kitchen and Stephanie even noticed it and later when Stephanie was opening her presents and they brought out the cake when we were singing happy birthday to her I saw you say something under your breath to Big Tits and she laughed so I KNOW you were flirting with her and then Big Tits gave me a look like I just made your boyfriend pay attention to me and you denied it all the way home and then we didn't talk for like two days? Do you remember that?

And our response is almost always the same:

Who the fuck is Stephanie?

It ain't personal. It's just the way we are. I think we'd get a lot more done in this country if we finally could put to bed the idea that men need to be a lot more like women and vice versa. It goes against all science, math and common sense about the sexes.

Men claim women are always miserable-stay-at-home moms bitch about having to stay home, working moms bitch about having to work AND raise children, when they are not bitching about not getting paid as much as men.

Listen, let me make this as clear as the clear glass bottom of a just-Windexed-and thus as clear as clear can get-glass-bottomed boat: I'm not talking about single moms who have to work to feed their kids or moms who work as well as the dads because between the two of them they barely manage to feed and clothe and shelter the kids or moms who work a part-time job to help out with the bills that both her and her partner of choice are doing their best to keep from piling up.

My sister-in-law Judy worked as did my brother Johnny as did my sisters Ann Marie and Betsy and both of their husbands and they did so because they needed both incomes and you know who the full-time nannies were? My mom and Judi's sister Janie and any and all available nearby aunts.

I'm not talking about necessity.

I'm talking about the moms-and we all know them-who begrudge the baby and the time they should be spending with it because it's beneath or beyond them.

The moms who are not "fulfilled" by being a mom.

The moms for whom toting a kid is fine-if the kid's outfit matches their own or carrying a kid for twenty minutes or so lends them a worthy amount of caring cachet from the shallow set that follow what's in fashion. If kids are suddenly and ever-so-briefly back in style-then so are they.

Moms who find sitting and talking with other moms while their kids play together so boring that they would rather have a Nicaraguan nanny with no vested interest in the baby other than as a means to stockpile dollar bills change and coddle and burp it while mom is out power-lunching her way to a bigger office with bigger lunches and sleeker desks and seven more assistants they can assault with assorted lists and demands.

If Helicopter Moms are overinvolved and almost ever present-flying