Rule # 53: Slot Machines and Parking Meters
George Carlin once said, “Here’s all you have to know about men and women: women are crazy, men are stupid. And the main reason women are crazy is that men are stupid.” As usual, he made it funny, but like most of his jokes, there’s a lot of truth behind it.
Lately I’ve been finding myself explaining the nature of men and women to my kids. As they get into relationships, they’re amazed at how difficult the waters are to navigate. I get a lot of “why did this happen?” or “what just happened?” questions. Relationships are complex, and I don’t claim to have all the answers—I just know how to survive.
The reason Carlin’s line works is simple: men don’t always “get it.” Half the time in conversations with women, I don’t even know what it is.
It’s not that men are truly stupid—we just don’t always know what we’re talking about. For us, things are what they are. Yes, we feel emotions, but we’re often oblivious to the hidden meanings behind words.
When men talk, we stick to concrete things: sports, movies, beer. I can say, “The Buckeyes suck,” and that’s all I mean. I’m not secretly insulting my buddy’s intelligence or questioning his life choices; I just think the Buckeyes suck.
When women have the same conversation, the questions multiply: how I said it, the tone I used, what I really meant. To a man, that sounds exhausting. To a woman, we must look stupid for not considering all those angles.
Here’s the truth: men are basically parking meters. Put in a quarter, get 20 minutes. Always the same. No surprises. Women are slot machines. Same quarter, but sometimes nothing, sometimes a small win, and sometimes a jackpot. The unpredictability keeps us feeding the machine, hoping for the big payoff.
Over time, that unpredictability makes men less confident. We become the “stupid” Carlin talked about. My wife Bobbi often points this out. If a friend calls her to stop for a drink on the way home, she just decides: yes or no. She’ll call or email me, and she knows she’ll get the parking meter response—“no problem.”
Meanwhile, my male friends almost always have to “check with the social director.” My wife hates that. “Can’t you guys make a decision on your own?” she asks.
Short answer: no, we can’t. Not because we’re incapable, but because we never know what the slot machine will give back. Sometimes it’s “sure, no problem.” Sometimes it’s “are you kidding, we have parent-teacher conferences.” Sometimes it’s “why didn’t you ask me if I wanted to go?” You just never know.
That’s why men look confused. From our perspective, slot machines are crazy. They can do almost anything.
So when my kids talk about relationships, I remind them: if he came home tired, it’s not deep—he’s just tired. If he didn’t call, it’s not a secret message—he just didn’t think you had more to talk about after three hours together at school.
And when explaining women to men, I usually say: “Don’t expect a payout every time. It’s a slot machine, not an ATM.” The variety of outcomes is part of the gift. Embrace it—it’s why we play in the first place.
The real pain comes when we expect parking meters to give jackpots, or slot machines to pay out every time. Life doesn’t work that way. The house always wins. Once you accept that, everything gets easier.
Too much of life is spent trying to make men act like women and women act like men. That only makes men look more stupid and women more crazy. Accept the differences, embrace them, and enjoy the game.
Oh, and the Buckeyes still suck.