Dear men: The fact that I am a woman who is in public with no female posse or male escort is not in and of itself a cry for male attention. My strategies for avoiding you include reading, headphones, and irrational interest in the ground. You routinely ignore these cues. My only recourse is to tell you that I am married. I get only two responses: Either you feign interest in what my husband does for a living, or you inform me of your plans to kick my husband's ass. My transformation from the girl you wanted to chat up to the bitch whose husband you are intent on beating actually makes sense from an evolutionary perspective. You have low fitness (read: no sex). I have already committed to giving another male offspring, making him the competitor who you must beat in order to get it through my head that I ought to be copulating with you. You may be interested to know that though alpha male chimpanzees succeed in having sex through intimidation and rape, studies have shown that lower ranking males who groom females actually have more offspring. I make this point because I want you to know that I don't actually hear you as I walk off, because you are drowned out by the echoing hoots and screams of the common ancestor we humans share with our phylogenetic cousins, the apes. Also, your penis is a sickly, shriveled acorn.—Anonymous