Unfortunately, since society continues to roost on hogwash, such assumptions strike far from the actual truth. In reality, the E-Male doesn’t thrive on the security of a car and a woman. He just thrives on the security of  yes, quite right  his car.
The E-Male, is by nature, an aficionado of human industrialism, with the invention of the automobile as its finest product. Though the female form is surely something to admire and lionize, nothing beats the glimmer of chrome and the roar of an armored machine.
Modern feminists hold a bitter grudge against the E-Male for the supposed commodification of their anatomies, as well as their slow degradation into sex-symbol status. The E-Male attributes this to female egocentrism, which he’d rather coin as feminicentrism. Feminicentrists suffer from a chronic inflammation of the ego, thinking that the world revolves around them, and that all males are out to bring them to bed.
Correction my dears. E-Male believes that the world of women is rather flat except for a few awesome and exceptional curves that straddle the continents like the Andes, the Alps and the Himalayas. In any case, the world doesn’t necessarily revolve around those because the world revolves around the car, and all males want is to bring home the car instead of the chicks.
As materialistic as it may sound, it’s not as self-serving as one might think. You see, the E-Male has good reason to be materialistic. Cars are a feat of human ingenuity, a testament of innovation and a triumph of testosterone-filled engineering brilliance. The invention of the first car in the late 19th century marked the birth of industrialized personal tr�ion, and opened the gates to a whole new mass-production market. In turn, materialism is actually a celebration of human progress.
That isn’t to say that the E-Male doesn’t celebrate the existence of women, no sir. But the E-Male celebrates women under one important pretext  that women are exactly like cars for a great number of reasons.
Just like a car, the average urban male requires a woman. It’s what one would call a necessary convenience. Although this post-modern world dictates that you can actually settle for another male, the truth still holds. The idea of sulking into the oblivion of old age without a tolerable partner (or feasible mode of transportation) seems like a lean-on. But time has proven that a car or a woman isn’t necessarily the key to happiness  but then again, having one never hurt anybody.
And just like a car, you have to find the right woman. Surely the E-Male has tried a great deal of cars, (or women) lent (or introduced) to him by his friends and family; but just because it’s got four wheels and runs doesn’t mean it’s going to get him anywhere. Sometimes the ride is smooth and the handling is just spectacular, but after a while, the tranquillity of it all comes off as a bit of a bore.
Then again, the ride can be fast and heart-stopping-where-did-my-balls-go furious, but you sure as hell know that you wouldn’t last a month with the beast. Then others run rather well, almost perfect, until it conks out on you at the last minute. And finally, there’s the one that you are utterly in love with, and everything hits off so well  other than the fact that she’s owned by someone else. Just like with cars  just like with girls.
Pretty girls are just like pretty cars in a very familiar sense. They cost an awful lot (though cars don’t ask for any emotional or sentimental currency) and everyone’s got their eye on them. And unless you know the crowd like the back of your hand, you might have to think twice before taking your car (or your woman) on a friendly stroll.
Nevertheless, any relationship requires a little bit of acquaintance in order to work. Know your girl and know your car. Know her limits and know how to take care of her; lest you shift to the wrong gear and crash your transmission system. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that all women entail different amounts and methods of care  just like cars.
On the other hand, cars still have a hand over the feminine race. As the popular saying goes, "You can pick up great chicks with a great car, but you can’t pick up a great car with great chicks."
Consider these: aside from the demands of regular maintenance, a car is far less trouble than girls. A car doesn’t expect you to be monogamous, since it lacks the ability to be jealous of other cars you might own. And if you’re in the mood for a different ride for the evening, you can borrow a friend’s car without worrying about the emotional baggage of a one-night stand.
You never have to compromise with a car on where to go for the weekend, and you can take it out for a spin practically whenever you want. Although gas money can run a bit hard nowadays, it’s all just the same with a woman, after realizing that you’ll have to drive her around anyway and navigate through her many incredible whims and fancies.
Cars never answer back during an argument and they never run off with another owner. Heck, you can steer the car in any direction you may choose with the least of hassles being having to listen to the constant soprano shrills of a backseat driver. Except for an accidental tripping of the car alarm system, cars never, never nag.
Cars are always were you last left them, and better yet, they usually come insured  against any and all liabilities or as against third parties. As for sex, cars may not pass as a palpable substitute (though some people have been known for some bizarre things done inside the car... jokes like, "How many people can fit into a car?" Ans. Seventy One. Two in the front and...do the rest of mathematics), but just thinking back on the phrase "you can pick up great chicks with a great car," clarifies the issue altogether.
Cars offer a lot more stability than the average woman, lasting for over a decade without asking for much more than a few trips to the talyer. Of course you won’t get away with a nice, long relationship without some maintenance. But unlike women  if you can’t work it out, you can just pay someone to work it out for you. Think of trade-in, outright sale, or a trip to the junkyard  at any rate, kilo por kilo ng bakal, kahit konti, may kita!
The perfect car, is indeed, the deepest desire of any man (whether he’d admit it or not), with the capacity to add the final missing piece to his wanting existence. It is the marriage of man and machine, the epitomized example of reciprocated love; and the only reason why a man would fall as helplessly in love with a woman is if he had lost all chances of finding that one, perfect, car.
In the end, most women have gotten it all wrong. The average male does not treat women like cars. He treats cars like women.