The culprit was my hair. Two-and-a-half months since my last haircut, I thought it was still going strong until I put on a sport jacket and saw that the back was doing a little 1980s flip action. Holly took one look at me, saw that I was spinning out and hustled me out of the house with a "You look great, and an "It's not about you."

“It's not about you” is something we say to each other when one of us is clearly falling into the dirty ditch of self-obsession. The good news? It's usually true -- as it definitely was last night, heading out to a friend's birthday dinner.

As soon as we arrived at the restaurant, the birthday girl complimented my hair. Ten minutes later, another woman at the table complimented it. Before the dinner was over, every single woman at the table had favorably mentioned my friggin’ hair. It was so bad (and I am so insane) that I briefly wondered whether Holly had secretly told them all individually to say something. Luckily, I quickly abandoned the world's most pathetic conspiracy theory and just took it for what it was -- another example of how much my mind is not always my friend.

It's a good thing that Holly and I take turns being crazy. There's a great marriage tip in there somewhere...I just know it.

Any guys out there willing to cop to a similar wussy moment? Come on, man up.