Whoever said men are scared to settle down has never seen one who needed to take a crap. They don't just settle down: they gear up, hunker down and downright nest. I once knew this guy who would actually leave work and drive all the way across town to get home if nature called. Said he needed to be comfortable, whatever that entailed - reading material... three-ply... heck, mood lighting and Barry White in the background for all I know.
Women, on the other hand, those chronic settler-downers, don't seem to be afflicted by a need for a two-hour lunch break and all the comforts of home every time they're moved to, uh, move.
(Yes, I realize it's a shock to learn that the gentle sex are, in fact, subject to the same laws of biology as you fellows out there. Now take a deep breath and get over it.)
Nope. Women are content to simply head to the nearest facility and deploy the single-ply on our delicate lady bottoms. We're super tough that way.
However, this is not achieved without considerable pre-planning. There are purses to hang just so; pre-flushings to conduct; toilet seats to sanitize and carefully line with a generous quantity of t.p.; forty six layers of clothing and accessories to variously remove, adjust and hold out of harm's way; and well-timed, delicate throat clearings to stage in order to muffle any possible affronting noises. Not to mention that the ideal time for the activity at hand must be cautiously selected to minimize the likelihood of encountering any other women performing the same function.
Because if by some feat of poor timing there are two women trying to drop the kids off at the pool at the same time, neither will ever be willing to make the first move. Both will sit in utter silence, stoically clenching teeth and asscheeks alike, waiting for the weaker woman to break. All women know there's only one rule to this war of attrition: if you go first, you lose.
This, my friends, is the real reason kegels were invented.