I have a theory:
Men are like cap guns. They are fun to shoot. They make a little pop. They have an endless supply of those little black dots on the red strips of paper. They want to run around shooting everybody.
Women are like cannons. If you light the fuse, they will explode into a huge and glorious spectacle. But if you fire it once, it's yours. You've either got to find somebody else who will take it, gather the strength to lift it up and throw it in a dumpster, or keep it forever.