(Photo by Elvire.R./Flickr)

I recently discovered an important piece of research that has attracted no mainstream media attention. I think the world should know about it. It starts to explain – how to put this subtly? – everything that humans do.
 
I discovered this research while reading the British Psychological Society Research Digest. (I don’t know whether the fact that I read something called the British Psychological Society Research Digest is a reason I do not have a girlfriend, or is a result of my being single. Either way, these are the things I do with my time when not buying restaurant-quality meals for women.)
 
Researchers asked university students to judge how high an unencumbered woman would be able to jump. The students doing the guessing made lower estimates of how high the woman would jump when they had weights attached to their own ankles. The students gave higher estimates when they didn’t have weights attached to their own ankles.
 
According to the BPS Research Digest, “Veronica Ramenzoni and colleagues interpreted their finding in terms of Gibson’s ecological theory of perception. This is the idea that our perception of the world is intimately affected by what we are capable of doing in it. The new finding suggests our assessment of how we can act in a given environment biases our judgment of how other people will be able to act too.”
 
I know what you’re thinking. Which ecological theory of perception? Oh, Gibson’s ecological theory of perception. I’m glad they’re finally labeling all these various ecological theories of perception.
 
I’ll restate the study’s conclusion: “The new finding suggests our assessment of how we can act in a given environment biases our judgment of how other people will be able to act too.”

In other words, we judge others by our own capabilities.

I’m calling this Ramenzoni’s Law.

If true, Ramenzoni’s Law affects human action at every level.

Take relationships. Ramenzoni’s Law helped me realize this. When I sing the praises of a woman I like, the praise often is a form of reflected glory. She is smart. She is funny. She is a pursuer of happiness. She is five-foot, six-inches tall. These are all things I think I am. Whether those things are true or not, they are true in my head. This is part of the Wonder Woman Theory I defined in the column In opposition to the Open Door Policy.
 
Let’s apply Ramenzoni’s Law to the workplace. A few years ago I had a boss who expected me to toe the company line at a time when worker morale was low. There were many reasons for low morale, none of which were addressed by upper management. I think she expected me to toe the company line because she was great at toeing the company line. You always knew where the company line was because she was standing on it, or near it or twirling it like a golden lariat in hopes that she could ensnare other people with it. My management style revolved around keeping the people “under” me, to borrow a term from Office Space, productive. Her management style revolved around keeping the people “over” her happy. She projected her ability on me. 
 
(Here’s something else Ramenzoni’s Law helped me realize. If you want to get ahead – if you want to play the game, so to speak – make your boss’s talents your talents. This explains the seemingly inexplicable Cowell-Seacrest dynamic. It also explains Belichick-Brady, McCain-Palin and Burns-Smithers.)

 
Let’s look at politics. Specifically, let’s look at the latest economic bailout.

A politician is a person who takes money from a person who earned it and gives it to a person who did not. These are not people who excel at making an honest dollar. Perhaps this is why most congressmen have the perpetually disappointed look of a college professor who is miffed that someone has taken his or her parking spot.

What politicians are good at is compromising as means of survival. As a result, Washington politicians look at the people they consider their peers on Wall Street and project their own abilities onto them. If Wall Street wants to survive in a time of crisis, politicians think, Wall Street will have to compromise. Psychologically, this is how $700 billion bailout plans happen and capitalism becomes socialism. The bailout plan asks Wall Street to be party to a transaction in which money is taken from people who earned it (taxpayers) and given to people who did not (the people who run failing banks). The pattern is familiar.

Here’s the good thing about Ramenzoni’s Law and the reason I want more people to know about. Once you recognize its existence, you can start to overcome the negative effects of living in a me-centered universe. You can judge women by who they are, not by how they are awesome like you. You can size up your boss – or a potential boss – in one conversation. You can even keep the upper echelons of the economy free from government interference if you are the son of a vice president, (later president), who failed to create any wealth in the free market and wound up making a lot of his fortune through the sale of a heavily taxpayer-subsidized baseball field.

According to Ramenzoni’s Law, we judge others by our own capabilities. President Bush must think it is hard to make money without government assistance.
 
It is – for him.

I don’t have a lot of rules. In fact, I really only have one special rule. As low-maintenance as I am, you’d think this rule would be something universally reasonable, but it has proved to be surprisingly controversial.

Rule 1 (of 1): Please close the bathroom door.

That’s it. Simple, right?

Wrong.

I have talked to married couples about the Open Door Policy and it is fair to say – through my unscientific polling – that three out of every four married couples leaves the door open when nature – in both of its glorious forms – calls. I can hardly begin to explain how much this bothers me. It’s huge – a complete deal-breaker.

There are very practical reasons to close the door. The main reason is that I don’t want to smell or hear anything you’ve got going on in there. If I did, I would occasionally open the door while you’re in there and say, “Hey babe, I just want to get a big waft of what you’ve got cooking. Let’s turn off the fan. I want to savor this.”

That will never happen.

On a more personal level, I want the door closed because it preserves my positive mental image of you. When I think of my girlfriend, I don’t want to think of a half-dressed woman grunting on the pot while thumbing through a gnarled, old Us Weekly. We cannot choose the images that are seared into our brains forever. There is one girl I went out with who will always be Orange Girl. We went out, went to a bar, she had a tan and the funky bar lighting hit her and she looked orange. Now she’s Orange Girl forever. It’s burned in my brain. I can’t marry someone who, when she calls my cell phone, my mental image is of her nodding her “no” with her face scrunched up while spraying a can of Glade.

(Above: This couple is fucked.)

I have this theory. When you’re in a relationship with a woman, you’re actually in a relationship with three women. You are dating the woman as she is, full of virtues and faults, and that is the Real Woman. You also are dating the woman as you want to see her, an idealized vision of the woman that encompasses all of her virtues. She is the Wonder Woman. The third woman you are dating is the woman who scares you to death, filled with faults and problems than can’t be ignored – the Psycho Woman.

(You can replace Man with Woman in each case. This cuts both ways.)

When you start dating, the woman you meet is the Wonder Woman. After six months, or when you move in together, the Real Woman emerges and eats – sometimes literally – the Wonder Woman. Most of the time, Real Woman is just as lovable as Wonder Woman because you understand that her virtues outweigh her faults.

This is how you can tell where Wonder Woman starts and Real Woman stops. The first time you tell your mom about your new love, the words you use to describe her are actually describing the Wonder Woman.

A man would never say, “Julie is an account executive who lacks confidence because her parents were pieces of crap, which is why she never pursued her dream of dancing and instead embarked on a career path she does not enjoy. She drinks too much wine.”

A man would say, “Julie is smart and professional and she loves to dance and have a good time.” That’s his Wonder Woman.

When a guy complains, he complains about the Psycho Woman. He is only seeing the parts of her that emerge when 1.) She does not want to be in the relationship anymore 2.) She feels she is not being treated with the respect she deserves 3.) The relationship has outpaced her maturity.

There you have it – my Three Woman Hypothesis. Every relationship is Big Love. This is why men drink.

All of which, unbelievably, brings me to my point.

I object to an Open Door Policy because – besides being gross – it destroys my mental image of both the Real Woman and the Wonder Woman. The Real Woman is always in flux. She is a battle between the best things about her versus the worst things, and the last thing I need is a “worst things” visual of my girlfriend on the can. Worse, the Wonder Woman image gets completely annihilated. The woman you respect so much, the wind beneath your wings, the soul mate who comprises best parts of yourself reflected for the whole world to see – she’s gone. She’s taking a dump in a Port-O-Let.

Not to get all Carrie Bradshaw on you – why not? the movie is a hit – the first time the bathroom door is left open, it signals a change in the relationship – a point of no return. If you take the open door without comment, expect other degradations to follow. Most couples can handle it, but not all and certainly not me. If you fight to close the door, remember that you are not only fighting for a sanitary living environment, you also are fighting for the essence of your relationship. You are saying, “A heart can only be open when a bathroom door is closed.”

I was drinking cut-rate Mexican beer at the outdoor bar of a Flamenco dinner theater in Hollywood when a friend introduced me to a striking blonde. The three of us spoke for several minutes. Our mutual friend then wisely excused himself.

We had a good conversation. There was a lot of agreeing, which was a positive sign, because I am usually right. I mentally checked through my list of turn-ons and turn-offs. She wasn’t a smoker – good. She wasn’t impossibly shy – good. She looked good in jeans – good. I saw a level of compatibility. I’m not saying I heard wedding bells, but I did think, “Here is someone I enjoy talking to.”

Then it happened.

It always happens in conversations.

But this time it really happened. In fact, it’s still happening in my head weeks later, which is why I feel compelled to write about it.

A break in the conversation occurred – a moment of silence. There was a natural pause that gave both of us a chance to appraise the future of our short relationship.

When such a break occurs, I have learned that one of four things is about to happen.

1. Both parties smile, relax and resume the conversation. By doing this you send a signal. You’re saying, “I want to be here. I could have excused myself to go to the bathroom or left you to order another cut-rate Mexican beer or gone off to make sure my car tires were still properly aligned, but I didn’t. I stayed. I like you.”

2. One person comments on the silence. This is risky. You either come off looking very lame or very cool. It’s exactly like owning a Vespa.

(Above: The Vespa — a knife that cuts both ways.)

3. Both parties look in the opposite direction and slowly pivot their bodies away from each other and pretend they never met. I perfected this maneuver in high school. It is sad the way the guy who goes to the grocery store after work to buy one can of Foster’s is sad. That’s like Level-3 Sad on the Sad 5-Scale.

4. One or both parties politely excuse themselves.

It turns out there is another option.

You also can mumble something, put your head down and bowl across the restaurant with the speed and determination of Minnesota Vikings running back Adrian Peterson. I didn’t know this was one of the options until that night at Flamenco dinner theater bar. I would advise against this option because every time I see the blonde Adrian Peterson I will think, “That’s the girl who ran 35 yards through the heart of the restaurant’s defense during the first break of our first conversation.”

(Above: The real Adrian Peterson runs away from a conversation with Vikings quarterback Tarvaris Jackson.)

Could she have had a bathroom emergency? It’s possible, but not likely. I saw her later and if she was not feeling well, her illness did not send her home and it did not show. The real sin – in my book – was that when we crossed paths the second time she did not acknowledge her awkward exit. She pretended it did not happen, ignoring the fart in our conversational elevator.

If she had said “Sorry about before but I really had to bust a wiz,” I would have laughed and remembered her forever as a superior brand of woman. That kind of honesty is rare and awesome and fun. Just once I’d like to hear a girl excuse herself for five minutes, come back and say, “I wouldn’t go in the women’s room for the next 35 to 45 minutes” and then make an exploding-bomb noise.

These are my fantasies.

I have problems.

Have you ever wondered why so many handsome men are jerks and so many hot women lack self-esteem? In other words, why do so many people who look perfect on the outside turn out to be so defective on the inside?

I stumbled across a possible answer while reading about – wait for it – tomatoes.

The April 2008 issue of Psychology Today magazine has an article entitled “Booty Marks” by Daniel A. Marano. (If you like seeing the human mind stripped naked and documented in a variety of new positions, I recommend the brain porn that is Psychology Today.)

The article says that small, scraggly fruits and vegetables are healthier for you than the bowling ball-sized tomatoes and oranges on grocery store shelves. When a plant is stressed by drought or lack of sun, nature copes by reducing the size and overall attractiveness of its fruit, leaving it small and gnarly in appearance. According to Marano, “Compact size concentrates the flavonoid phytochemicals that have significant benefits to human health.”

Flavonoids – what a terrible name, was flavosputum already taken? – as well as carotenoids and lycopene are phytochemicals that are produced by plants as a means of coping with stress. All of these things are good for you. Flavonoids, for example, contain antioxidants and anti-inflammatory agents and help fight cancer.

Bottom line: The smaller and nastier the fruit, the better it is for you.

All of which leads me to one possible reason why so many handsome guys are jerks and so many hot women lack self-esteem. According to my Flavonoid Behavior Theory, the handsome and hot endure less stress in life than the non-handsome and hot. As a result, the handsome and hot do not build up the emotional and intellectual phytochemicals that enable the rest of us to be decent, confident human beings.

(This theory also applies to rich heirs and heiresses.)

Let’s say the handsome and hot make up 25 percent of the population, with the other 75 percent ranging between attractive and dumpster. That 25 percent has a lot of things handed to them in life. Doors are opened simply because of the way they look. It happens in relationships, in business, in politics, in doorways. This situation appears to be ideal, but in the end you have adults who act like 12-year-olds because that’s the age when life stopped dealing them things to be stressed about.

The other 75 percent of us must undergo periods of sexual drought and party darkness, often referred to as the teenage years, or in some cases, the now. Our personal flavonoids help us cope with life’s disappointments and we learn to value traits besides good looks. The stress helps make us better people.

According to the Psychology Today article:

“The insults and injuries that plants endure in the wild … provoke their natural defenses and yield fruit that is seldom bigger but often more richer than its commercial cousin.”

Sounds like a description of a lot of people I know.

This is not to say that suffering is a virtue. It’s not. Overcoming challenges is what builds up our personal flavonoids.

(Above: Days like these only make us stronger.)

According to Flavonoid Relationship Theory, if you want a long-term relationship, the big, bright tomato is a non-fulfilling choice. It looks good on the outside, but there is little worthwhile on the inside. According to plants - hey, they have been on the planet longer than us - that which is not smoking hot on the outside stands a decent chance of being smoking hot on the inside.

Am I telling you to chase fatties and dogs? No. Chasing fatties and dogs is a joy unto itself and has nothing to do with Flavonoid Theory. This is not a call to go, in the immortal words of my freshman roommate Dom, “Hoggin’.”

I think what nature is trying to tell us is that the tomato that has experienced no stress in life is probably an airhead tomato. The tomato that has can e-mail me for dinner and dancing at joedonatellicolumn@gmail.com.

(To hear The Second Column podcast on Flavonoid Behavior Theory with our guest, comedian Kevin Ford, click here.)

Some words of wisdom are so right they stick with you forever. Fifty years from now when I am sitting in a futuristic retirement hover-home in the clouds of Upper Arizona, these words uttered by my buddy’s older brother my freshman year of college will still flash through my mind.

“Here’s all you need to know. All girls are crazy. And all guys just want to get laid.”

I call this the Lowell Hypothesis, named for its creator. My friends and I probably repeated the Lowell Hypothesis 87,000 times during our four to six years at Ohio University.

It explained everything.

When a girl acted crazy – and in a town with 20 bars within walking distance of campus it happens a lot – we knew that it was in a girl’s nature to act crazy. We had been warned. We accepted it.

When we did stupid things to try to get laid – did I mention that we had 20 bars within walking distance? – we accepted that we were slaves to our hormones. It didn’t excuse our behavior. But it helped us come to grips with things like pretending to like Dave Matthews Band.

I thought of the Lowell Hypothesis this week while reading a Washington Post feature entitled Sex and the Single Bird by French researcher Alexis Chaine. I’ll summarize the article and eventually make a point.

Every summer male songbirds called lark buntings fly north from Mexico and Texas to build nests in a national grassland outside of Denver. The males peacock out with new plumage, glossy feathers, Axe body spray – the works. It was always assumed that females chose the most aggressive birds with the most macho look – kind of like high school … and college … and that 50-year period between college and death. But Chaine’s research shows that these female songbirds actually change their preferences from year to year.

Now, if you’re one of those male lark buntings and you’re reading this in The Washington Post you’ve got to be like “What the fuck!?!” I fly all the way up to Denver – not San Diego or Chicago or some other superior locale – get myself in good shape, bust out a new wardrobe and practice my primal squawk, and for what? So that some hollow-boned avian floozy can decide that bright plumage is out and the ability to gather small twigs is in?

If I’m that male lark bunting I’m thinking, “Hey – all girl birds are crazy. And all guy birds just want to get laid.”

(Above: The female lark bunting. What dude lark bunting wouldn’t want a piece of that?)

Why do these lady birds screw with male birds?

Chaine writes:

For male lark buntings, reproductive success depends on whatever traits are in vogue among females that season. By staying flexible and seeking out partners with the physical qualities most needed at the moment, females ensure that more chicks successfully leave the nest. If the prairie is overrun by ground snakes, for example, mother birds might choose the most protective males – a quality that might be signaled by wing-patch size. If grasshoppers are scarce the next year, maybe they will look for partners with big beaks, which might make them good providers.

This makes me wonder. Nature is incredibly consistent. Most animals, for example, nurture their young without question – humans included. Is it possible that human women do the same thing as female lark buntings? Do human women choose their mates based on what types of advantages males can provide them in that season?

Ask yourself this. Have you ever known a pair of sisters or close friends who married the same type of man? I have. Ladies, have you ever noticed how you and your friends’ husbands or boyfriends are remarkably alike? I know women who have.

You probably laughed it all off as coincidence, but it’s entirely possible that, like the female lark bunting, you and your community of girlfriends/sisters have established, and continually reestablish, what traits are in vogue that season. What’s more, these traits evolve over time, so that the traits you and your girlfriends were looking for when you were 25 are different than those you seek when you’re 30. This would explain, among other things, women who try to change their men, marital affairs and the female drive to move furniture fortnightly.

Think about the female lark bunting next time you look at your man and go, “Who is this guy in my bed?” Maybe he was your 1998 male lark bunting – you were impressed by his ability to navigate the Internets and thought the fact that he owned a Saturn spoke well of his thrift. Now it’s 2008 and you have a whole new set of ground snakes and scarce grasshoppers in your life. You now run your own B2B site, but he still has an AOL e-mail account and drives the same shitty Saturn.

Perhaps it is hardwired into the female brain to change preferences based on present, ever-evolving personal situations. Maybe it is one of the ways – like the lark bunting – that we have ensured the survival of our species.

That doesn’t mean that people can’t have good relationships or that we are simply slaves to our hormones. It means that, when you pick a mate, you’re probably best off looking for someone who can fend off the ground snakes of today and hunt the grasshoppers of tomorrow.

What you want is depth. And if it helps at all, depth never smells like Axe body spray.