Monday

I haven’t had much appetite lately. For example, this week I have eaten nothing. My friend (a female, of course—no man would tell me I need to eat more) insisted that I need to eat more. So I told her, “Sure, I’ll fix myself a nice salad.” That satisfied her. What did I actually eat? A chili dog. That was my food for the day, and it really did fill me up. If I’m not hungry I’m not going to eat. I hate to disappoint the women in my life, but that is just how it works. If I’m hungry, I eat. If I’m not hungry, I don’t eat. And guess what—being hungry is not my decision. I have no more influence on whether I’m hungry than I have over how much my hair grows overnight.

This is something that (some) women do that drives me nuts. They will pick out some flaw and tell me I can fix it. No matter that I’ve been to a dozen doctors and spent thousands of dollars trying to fix it and it’s still not fixed. They want to explain that I can fix it and they always pull out that old bromide, “Believe in yourself.” I want to tell them, “The next time you break a leg, just tell yourself you can walk if only you believe in yourself.”

I refuse to take advice from people who don’t know what they’re talking about. And women love to give advice.

Maybe this is why I’m not married.