I never went on a Spring Break vacation in college, which will always be one of my biggest regrets. The rest of my boys, on the other hand, never missed their annual trek from Washington, D.C. to Miami’s South Beach in the Spring. And every year they arrived back on campus with legendary stories, filled with the kind of details I can only describe using the 24th letter of the alphabet. As for my female friends, their Spring Break stories were PG-13 at best, and it always boggled my mind. Maybe the girls I talked to weren’t the same girls involved in the stories my boys told me, but they had to be involved in somebody’s story, right?

The question is rhetorical because I already know the answer. Of course the girls who said things like “GREAT” and “OH MY GOD! IT WAS SO MUCH FUN!” to describe their Spring Break were doing the same things my boys were doing. They just didn’t want to admit it. After all, a real lady never talks about the times she didn’t act like a real lady. Instead, women lie by omission, describing a weekend filled with fun, sun, and alcohol. But bad decisions? They speak of no such thing. Unless, there’s a possibility they really did no such thing at all, which I have come to realize over the years, is very likely. The debate between which gender enjoys sex more will always be disputed, but men definitely want sex more than women because whenever we go out, the possibility of sex is omnipresent. Though most of us learn not to chase or put too much pressure on ourselves to go home with a woman the same night we meet her, all men would like the opposite outcome to occur. Trust me, if a man had a genie lamp he could rub on every night before he went out one of his three wishes would be a random sexual encounter with an attractive woman, and I bet the lamp would have more fingerprints than a police department.

Women on the other hand don’t often go out with the same mentality. Notice I said often. I understand some women go out with the mentality of a man, but across the board? No way. For most women, a great night for them doesn’t end in another man’s bed or another man in their bed. It ends with a bunch of men giving them gobs of attention. To wit: Over the weekend, I asked three different women to describe the best night out they ever had. Below are some of the highlights. Girl 1: “My girls and I were leaving an open bar and there was this limo driver who was parked in front of the spot. When he saw me and my girls, he let us ride in the limo for free for the rest of the night and took us to all the best clubs. Then he drove us to the train station at the end of the night and we laughed about the night the entire train ride home.” Girl 2: “We had no money, me and my girls, but we went to the club anyway and for some reason, this club was crazy that night. We just danced all night, and guys were buying us drinks and gave us money to get home…”

Girl 3: “My friends and I just partied all night, dancing on tables and speakers. It was so much fun! Then we went home at like 6 in the morning and passed out.” Hardly a scientific survey, but to make my point, three is all I need. For most women, a good night is two drinks in both their hands, both bought by two different men, and a third man up in their face saying, “When you get done with those two drinks, I’m going to buy you your third one.” After the women, I asked three different men to describe the best night out they ever had. Below are their highlights. Guy 1: “We did it at her place.” Guy 2: “We did it at my place.” Guy 3: “We just did it at the club.” Hardly a scientific survey, but to make my point, three is all I need.