*disclaimer: i am about to rant and generalize about men. suck it up*
Whether computers, guitars, video games, or dolls (yes, dolls) men looooove their toys. I wouldn’t compare it to a “kid on Christmas morning” love, it’s more of a “last piece of bread during famine” kind of love.
Sister, have you ever picked up a discarded guitar in a room full of people, maybe a BBQ or a party. Previously, no one was playing the guitar or paying it any mind. The second a woman gets her hands on a guitar, you can bet your ass there will be a man who thinks he plays better by her side within 20 seconds. He will take the guitar out of her hands, he will fiddle with it, make faces as if what hes playing is so hard she couldn’t even comprehend and then, if we’re lucky, he’ll let her singalong- provided she knows the lyrics to the 4 songs he knows to play. Forget that she knows a myriad of songs and she sings and plays at the same time and could be infinitely more entertaining than he could ever dream of being, the boy must have his toy. In each chord, he conveys an air of “I am a guitar god”, whether he is or is not.
It’s one of the most annoying male-phenomena I have ever encountered.
Here are a couple more:
Hording and hogging electronic devices- video games, computers, TV remote controls. I mean in a room full of computers, all of which are unowned by the users- like in a workplace or a computer lab- the first one to the computer and the last to let it leave his grip is a member of the boy-man species. The boy will even go as far as to hide the device or put a password on it, so as not to lose his toy to the hands of the female. For real, there is a soccer game from 2007 saved and password-locked on my Tivo from the days when I was married and living with such boy-man. No joke. As if sharing a computer or erasing a file, or saved game would eliminate the existence the very balls that make him the man he is.
Then we have the secretary anomaly. Why is it that a man starting a business or taking on a big project first needs an administrative or personal assistant. He needs a secretary Barbie at work to play with. As if he couldn’t 
possibly just sit in an office and do the work himself.
This summer, I doubled up on three jobs- one of them administrative. Some of the men around me could barely wrap their minds around the administrative details for their one job- constantly looking for secretary Barbie to rescue them from getting price quotes and filling out forms. How is it possibly faster to wait for someone who is busy to do a part of your job rather than doing it your own damn self? Or is the male macho ego now officially and unabashedly prioritized over and at the price of productivity?
How is it possible that there are more parliamentary assistant Barbies 
keeping appointment books in the parliament than there are laws getting passed? When I worked at the Knesset (Israeli Parliament) I always said that if we did away with the Members of Parliament and let the assistants, powerful women with years of experience, rule the government, we’d be in much better hands. I salute all secretaries, not mere conceptualized Barbie dolls filling the office void and filling out forms. May you turn into a “real live girl (Ala Pinocchio)”, overtake the men you’ve previously worked for and spill coffee on their precious, password encoded laptops.
So while we often just give the boys their toys, knowing that it behooves us not to argue with an adult who thinks with the mind of a child, we hold our heads up high.
Because like the monkeys and cavemen that came before them, they will keep on banging those bones together until a more sophisticated, more evolved species, woman, comes to bring them their next dose of evolution.
Men can’t multitask! Yay women!
I haven’t seen too much of the password phenomena, but despite the sweeping generalizations, it’s still pretty much true. The guitar and gizmo thing is absolutely dead-on; even though I can’t play a guitar at all, I still like to mess around with it as if I have some skill, even if I’m around women (or men, to be fair) who are far better than me. What’s worse are the guys in college who would only learn “Wonderwall” and “Your Body is a Wonderland” in the hopes that girls would think they were sensitive artist-types.