Men v. Women: The Donut Dichotomy

A trip to the Dunkin Donuts drivethru this morning confirmed the innate nature of gender differences.

The big-haired woman in the Volvo in front of me ordered her breakfast this way:

"Yes, I'd like a medium tea with two sugar packets."

"Anything else?"

"Umm, I'd like a Boston Creme donut?"

Compare that to my order, which immediately followed:

"I want a dozen donuts: 4 Boston Creme, 4 glazed, 2 vanilla creme, 2 strawberry-filled."

"Anything else with that?"

"No."

Aside from the fact that I'm going to be eating 12 times as many donuts as the Breck girl, what does this mean?

Notice how she operated under the false pretense that what she was really going to Dunkin Donuts for was a refreshing glass of iced tea. She clearly tried to play off the Boston Creme donut as an afterthought, quite possibly intended for somebody else (who drinks iced tea with donuts?).

We know the score, though---if any portion of her order gets handed off it will be the tea. If you smelled her breath a few minutes later I'm quite sure you'd detect a hint of chocolate and creme filling.

You're not fooling anyone, honey.

Now compare that to the male ordering pattern: bold, daring, forthright. I didn't bother trying to put on the airs of a beverage connoisseur. This ain't "Dunkin Teabags". I'm here for donuts, and I want a dozen of them. That's the proper portion size for a donut---the dozen. It's like eggs. You don't buy one egg. You buy one dozen, because Lord knows you will eat them before you come back to the dairy aisle again.

And I don't give a damn whether the pimply puke working the drivethru window approves of my lifestyle choice. My taste for donuts is what keeps him in skateboard wheels. That's how the free market works. I don't need to confess my pastry sins to the likes of him. The belly upon which I rest my change is my scarlet D.

And that's why it's a man's world, baby.

At least until Rockin Ricecakes franchises start popping up all over.