Really, you think it's a metaphor? Naw.

A special type of man loves their toys. They shine and sparkle, they make wonderful sounds. These objects can bend and twist and gasp and twine around them.

And when the toy is done or tarnished, this particular breed takes as great a pleasure in the destruction and crumpling of the once cherished plaything as they did in discovering it's character and features.

I always pick the wrong pony.