On my break from work, this guy was trying to catch my eye from across the burger joint. Now don’t get me wrong, I like attention. I like getting the look once in a while, because sometimes it makes me feel like a lady, and sometimes that’s just what I need. In most cases, however, it’s nothing like that. They are creepy, sweaty, owl-eyed, and well into their forties, and this guy was no exception.

I was sending out whatever negative vibes I could do, inwardly chanting, Do not come over and talk to me, do not come over and talk to me...

He came over to talk to me.

It's the same drill. He shakes my hand, introduces himself, asks if I'm married, which never gives me the chance to lie. What I should do in these situations is switch my ring to my left hand and say, "Yes! Married. I am. Ever so. We're in love. He's a professor of cetacean biology." But I can never manage the lie. I once had this be-mulleted boozehound take my hand and say that he noticed I didn't have a ring on my finger, when it only occurred to me later to say, "That's because it's so huge that I have to have a team of six eunuchs carry it around for me." I am, as ever, a rotten liar.

Nope, not married. Really, he says, he'd have thought a sweet little thing like me would be married.