I recently heard it put something like this: Men would rather stand shoulder-to-shoulder, together watching the ripples formed by fishing lures cast into a lake. Or cram snacks as they watch a football game on the big screen.
Women, however, would rather be face-to-face, recounting together their experiences of the day, of the week, of the year—-events and times that men cannot even recall whether they were alive.
Many men have a remarkable ability to remain flat. Flat, when occupied with sports. Flat, when relating the events of their workday. Flat when asked to tend to the trash. Flat while silently sorting fleeting thoughts. Like a flounder on the ocean floor, they possess such flatness as to blend in with their surroundings, given away only by their unblinking eyes.
When a woman takes a selfie next to a picture of a giant, flat man, she gains an advantage. For that moment, she can imagine the man in the picture as something that he is not: that he is not flat.