Gene Weingarten poses with his stoic new gal-pal, also known as "Summer" by French sculptor Aristide Maillol, at the National Gallery of Art.

Gene Weingarten is not a typical guy. He has never had a one-night stand, calls himself a feminist and today, instead of ordering a burger or wings at Tunnycliff's Tavern on Capitol Hill, he gets the peanut butter and jelly pizza.

"It's intriguing in its horror. It's almost like you can't believe it's a foodstuff," he says, biting tenaciously into the purple and beige monstrosity covered in a veil of mozzarella. "But I fully intend to eat all of it."

Okay, so maybe he is a typical guy.

Although better known for his humor column "Below the Beltway" in The Washington Post Magazine, Weingarten recently collaborated with University of Connecticut professor Gina Barreca on a nonfiction book, I'm With Stupid: One Man. One Woman. 10,000 Years of Misunderstanding Between the Sexes Cleared Right Up.

So here I sit—boldly representing my gender—when trouble hits: I can't get my tape recorder to work. I turn it over to Gene for inspection and, digging into my bag for a spare set of batteries, produce only one double-A and some Clinique lip gloss.

Fortunately, Gene discovers the problem—a pause-button malfunction—and we move forward, discussing the origin of I'm With Stupid. About three years ago, he received a press release about a book by Gina, who was described as an "expert in feminism and humor"—a combination Gene has since compared to being an expert in oysters and accordions. So he decided to call her up and see if she'd debate him in a column.

"People like to think that humorists are nice people. You know, 'cuz we make you laugh," he says in a mocking, sing-songy voice. "But, in fact, the engine of all humor is hostility, and every joke is at the expense of somebody or something. So Gina was essentially red meat for me. My plan was to humiliate her and be done with it."

Now tell the readers what really happened, Gene.

"She turned out to be this bawdy wench. And she beat me up." Exactly.

In order to encourage unbridled honesty by both writers—who are, by the way, happily married to other people—publisher Simon & Schuster required that they not meet until the book tour. (The duo first laid eyes on each other in the CBS Morning Show greenroom.) Fortunately, it worked. Via e-mail and phone, the two unabashedly discussed everything from movies to money to, ahem, manual stimulation. "We know each other better than most married people," says Gene, who thinks men and women have different ideas about everything, including vacations.

"Men like to go where things happen, where they can be part of the action. Women like tours of catacombs that are historically significant because in 1742 somebody established a school there for Alsatian nuns."

"I hate those places," I rebuke, then carefully reconsider. "Wait, does it have a gift shop?"

This gets me a wry smile from the mustached midlifer who, in reality, looks more like a disheveled Tom Selleck than a junior Gene Shalit, as the cartoon portraits in the Post suggest. And despite the misogynistic pose he takes in the book, let me assure you: He's a sheep in wolf's clothing. Albeit a sheep that shivers when you mention the word "cuddling."

Beyond travel, Gene and Gina bantered about other lighthearted topics (flatulence included) and engaged in social experiments like online dating (platonic, of course) and buying a car. They delved into some serious topics, too.

"I'd say we only got angry over the issue of infidelity. Gina offered her forthright feelings and I explained that she was totally out of her mind," he says. "Marriages don't work on insane lunatic jealousy. … I just think the whole institution is stupid in the absence of children."

There's one other topic Gene can't seem to Heimlich out of Gina's craw: "Why don't men like fat women?"

For an entire chapter, he successfully avoids answering that question. "But Gina would never let it go. Even during public appearances, she'd shove a microphone in my face and demand an answer," he says, then proudly announces, "But I think I've finally come up with one!"

I raise my right eyebrow as if to say, "Proceed with caution."

"It's not that men don't like fat women; we do like them. A man is just concerned that if a fat woman becomes incapacitated in his presence he will be unable to carry her to safety."

Riiiight.

"So if you and Gina got in a fight, who would win?" I ask.

"If it was a gladiator fight to the death, I'd win. Because, ultimately, women are nicer—and I'll cheat if necessary," he says. "Any other competition she wins because she will outwit me."

I go fishing: "So you're saying that women are smarter than men?"

"I think women are equally intelligent and competent—and definitely more intuitive," he says. Except, perhaps, when it comes to men.

Case in point: Gene says that he and Gina have had "testier exchanges" since they met—proving her theory that everything changes between a man and a woman once they have been in each other's company.

"The truth is that Gina has gotten angry with me lately if I don't return her e-mails fast enough—and by that I mean INSTANTANEOUSLY. She'll want to know if something's wrong. Am I mad at her? This never happened before we met," he says. "You people are ridiculously needy!"

Unfortunately, I miss the bait. I'm too busy wondering how quickly Gene will respond to my next e-mail.