Why men are afraid to ask for directions

Siting on the top of the steps outside Union station, I am waiting to meet my friend. Watching the endless parade of rush-hour pedestrians, I am content. Instead of listening to my I-pod, I take in the city; smelling hot dog vendors, listening to the buzz, and inhaling the fumes of rush hour traffic.
I notice a group of teenagers come up from the subway and stop on the street. They look around confused as the change between tiny underground tunnels to big loud, bright streets can sometimes do. Seeming disorientated they begin to argue quietly between them. I know it is because they are somewhat lost.
I wonder if they would ask for directions and how long it might take to do so. Out of the group of five, the one male finally approaches me, "Excuse me, do you know where Yonge street is?"
I offer the simple directions, and he walks back to his group of girls; they continued away.
I sat wondering if this was the reason to which men hated asking for directions. Often being forced to do so early in life time and time again. Later in life they get grumpy; refusing to pull over and ask. They keep driving in circles, getting more and more lost. They are hoping to recognize something, anything that will point them in the direction of the event they are already running half an hour late for. They have been in this town too many times to count, but years of embarrassing, "it's just one block that way" answers repeating through their thoughts, are making it impossible to consider stopping the car for anything less than a red.