...NEEDS TO STOP!

I get it. You're women. You were born with the theatrical gene. But seriously, ladies...can we try to move past high school and learn to get along? Let me preface the remainder of this post with this disclaimer: yes, men, boys, and the like are guilty of dramatic crimes against humanity, but let us be honest with each other - women are the primary culprits of this plague.

I have very few male friends. I attribute this to my inability to get flushed when someone (a quarterback?) gets a slam dunk (puck in net?). Also, I enjoy clothing - the purchasing part not the oh-my-god-did-I-gain-twenty-pounds-since-buying-this part; sad movies; gourmet food; cleaning - yes...cleaning; and talking with my mom on the phone. But damn, am I ever coming around to the idea of a bromance.

My two best friends are chicks. One is a real ballbuster, the other a girly-girl with a loud cackle. Typically, I tend to relate better with females. The ladies and I often share the same views on movies, hot men, and, of course, shoes. But what I don't seem to share with the esteemed members of my feminine crew is the desire, nay, the need to create something from nothing - and I'm not talking about fashioning a banging belt from some bamboo and an elastic. I'm talking about drama. The 'D' word. That intangible that sends shivers down my spine and has helped, in no small part, to give me the hairline of a sixty-five year old retiree and the wrinkled brow of an aged leather bag.

You ladies enjoy attention, don't you? And you don't care if it's positive or negative or neutral...you just love to be in the spotlight. And what better way to meander under the bright glow than by starting shit with someone because she looked at you cockeyed; or because she said you looked "nice" and not "good"; or because you aren't the first position on her speed-dial. Sounds absurd when you step away and analyze, doesn't it? That's because IT IS.

I am tired, absolutely exhausted of having to calm an estrogen-crazed looney down because a boy didn't call the second a date was over, or because a boss chided a curly-locked babe for incorrectly doing her job, or any situation remotely resembling either of these. Part of the problem stems from the typical female inability to compartmentalize. Men don't have this issue as much, or if they do they keep it as well hidden as Ann Coulter's humanity. Men have the ability to look at situations more objectively. This is partly why relationships fail: women look at actions or reactions as a direct indicator of projected feelings, whereas men look at situations from a more self-centred, what's-in-it-for-me mentality. This is most commonly viewed in the workplace. Women tend to get bitter and scorned because of reproach or criticism, and begin the overworked rumour mill to vindicate their hurt feelings. Men, on the other hand, will call their instigator a douchebag and grab a beer. Women feel that any slight is a personal attack, whereas men tend to see it for what it is, a critical outlook on their job performance.

Now I know it's not your fault. As I said earlier, you were genetically predisposed to getting feelings hurt over small issues, or to feeling upset because you didn't get your way, or even to starting wars because someone sent you an email with an "angry tone" (and on that note might I just put something out there into the ether: if you have not met or dealt with someone and they say something ambiguous in webland, are they automatically being a bitch? Or could it be that you are insane?)

The X chromosome has been Y's fickle foe ever since Eve ate that damned apple. And worse, X vs. X, as in mathematics, can lead to an unthinkable unknown. But let's try something new for 2010. Let's break boundaries and smile every now and then. Let's not take criticism as a personal attack but instead as a means to better one's self. Let's realize that if a guy wants to call, he really will call (and no, he didn't lose your number which you stored in his phone when you met, emailed to him the following morning, and sent via Blackberry messenger the next night.) Instead of seeing every small happenstance as the inciting force to a whirlwind of tensity (I actually thought I was making up a word with that but apparently spellcheck recognizes it) and mutual destruction. Learn to shrug things off. In the immortal words of Mariah Carey "Gotta do what's best for me. Baby and that means I gotta, shake it off."

Before all you ladies get your panties in a knot, I just wanted to say that 1)I indeed know there are many exceptions to the female affliction that is drama; 2)Yes, I myself have been prone to perpetuating a rumour and whispering so someone can't hear; and 3)My skin actually isn't that bad considering all the estrogenical assaults I have weathered over my short 23 years on this planet.

• Adam Mazerall's blog