I'm no macho man. I do, however, have more testosterone coursing through my veins than the average male, at least statistically. Perhaps this is why my arms are bleeding.
FEMALES ARE NOT INVOLVED IN THE FOLLOWING STORY:

I was in the back yard throwing baseballs against a piece of plywood, and doing pretty well for once, when I heard voices next door. Looking behind me I saw two of my neighbors playing in their back yard. One was five, the other about eleven. Being bored, I walked across the lawn and asked them if they wanted to play catch. "I don't have a glove" said Mike, the older of the two. I sighed and began walking back to my side of the line, but stopped halfway. There was a foam football on the ground, the kind that has the fins and whistles on the sides. I picked it up and tossed it at Mike, who caught it. "Go long!" he said for effect, and tossed it. The ball almost made it to me, but not quite. I picked it up, then looked around. There were fences on two sides, and a house on the third. Not the best place to throw a football up in the air. Of course this thought made me want to throw the foot ball even more. I wound up and threw the small ball as high as I could. It whistled hard, then stopped, spun, and began the return descent. Unfortunately there was large pine tree in the way. The ball landed lightly on a top branch, and began rolling slowly from one branch to the next. It did this almost all the way to the ground, then stopped. It was still about 20 feet up.
"I'll get it" I said. "Yeah right!" said Mike. I looked at the tree, and was almost forced to agree with him. It was a large white pine, about three feet in diameter, with the first stub of a branch 12 feet up. "No, I can get it." I said. At that moment the ball remembered the law of gravity, and fell down. "Let's see you do it" said Mike. I looked at the tree, then at the ball in Mike's hands. Pointing out the fact that he already had the ball would, of course, lead to ridicule, which is annoying even from an 11 year old.
I walked around the tree a few times. There were a few bumps in the bark where small branches had been, two of them still had small branch stubs sticking out. "Just admit you can't do it" said Mike. This is where most guys would point out that Mike is eleven, and therefore not worth listening to, but I took the challenge. I stuck my fingers into a crack in the bark with one hand, and around a bump with another. With great difficulty I lifted myself up, then gripped the tree with my legs (yes, that is possible with a tree that size, it just takes more practice than most people are willing to waste). I inched my arms up one at a time to new handholds, and slowly but surely pulled myself up. After repeating this process a few times I was able to rest one foot on a bump about 6 feet off the ground and rest. To the left was a rather large branch stub, but it was out of reach. I considered moving around the tree, but opted against it since the cracks were getting smaller and the bumps were gone. To the right was a branch that was easier to reach, but required that I switch which foot I had on the bump. This sounds easy to a person who doesn't climb often, but it is very difficult on large trees. I put my arms as far around the tree as I could; about half way, and gripped. The bark dug into my chest as my weight fell on it, and my fingers grew numb from pressure. I quickly switched feet, then grabbed the branch stump. Unfortunately it was barely within reach, and I only had it with one hand. I grit my teeth and swung out, putting all my weight on that one hand. With great difficulty I reached up with my other hand, and then pulled my self up till the branch stump was at chest level. From there it was almost easy.
I climbed to the branch the football had been on, and then back to the stump. I jumped all twelve feet to the ground, then stood in front of Mike, vindicated.
I had proved two things; one, that I am willing to do stupid things because I kid several years younger than me dares me, and two, that bark is rough. I stared down at my hands, and saw they were bleeding from 5 cuts. My arms weren't much better. I hope I don't start doing crack because some eleven year old says "Prove it".