Why don't men know how to pack?

It's been a while since I posted because I spent most of January finishing interviewing for jobs (more on that later) and packing up all of my belongings. After 6 years in New York, 4 of them in Manhattan, I moved back to Brooklyn. But it wasn't just any move. No, no! It was a cohabitation move. I've lived with a boyfriend once before but it wasn't intentional--my psycho abusive ex-boyfriend and I were roommates when we started dating and the experience is very high on my list of Things I Should Not Have Done Although It Probably Made Me a Better Person.

Anyway, Matt and I moved into our cute (and big!) apartment on Jan 31st, but not before weeks, days and hours of pleading, nagging, procrastination, and (finally) packing. This process left me asking 2 main questions: 1) how did I manage to pack so much crap into 350 square feet? But more imortantly, 2) why don't men know how to pack?

Every day, Matt had questions about this foreign, estrogen-necessitated process. Could he pack open bottles from the kitchen (like olive oil), and if so, how? Do pictures go in boxes? Do they get wrapped in newspapers or towels?

After surveying my friends, my boyfriend is apparently the best offender out there. After all, I had minimal input on his packing--not so for 2 of my girlfriends who each packed their entire boyfriend's apartment at the beginning of their mergers. And, in fact, when I moved to New York with Amete, I spent my last night and morning in Kansas City packing up his apartment (this is after I lost the U-Haul key and blamed it on someone else--again, another long story for a different post).