I-So-Lay-Shun (And When I Say "Shun" I Mean "Shun")

There's a reason I've become an (online) old fart:

One night while in Vegas, I met up with a group of friends—who were in town at another, unrelated conference—and I struck up a conversation with a woman who seemed reasonably intelligent and decently informed. Interrupting her soliloquy on the importance of eating natural foods, I mentioned that I was afflicted with type 1 diabetes. Her eyes widened, savoring the opportunity to help. She offered something that no endocrinologist previously had: a possible cure. “Switch to a raw-food diet,” she advised. Now my eyes widened. “You mean that raw food would help lower blood sugar?” I asked. “No, no,” she said with exasperation. “It can cure diabetes.” When I doubted that chewing on uncooked yams would kick-start my crippled pancreas, she accused me of lacking an “open mind.”

A friend was advising me recently, saying that even before I got injured, I stayed indoors too much. I was always working. I should get out more, like he does.

I told him no thanks, I have my friends and see people when I go shopping or to work, and there's no need to do more because, honestly, I no longer wanted to hear anybody's crazy beliefs. Actually watching and hearing people say crazy shit to my face, and then attacking me (as the speaker in the quote, above, did)? I'm done with all that. The rest can spout their "energy" baby talk to each other, use it to get laid, and then find someone else to do the Round Robin with - it's "fun" as Ann Althouse famously defined it - but it's also too stupid a way to go through life for me.

My friend, bless his heart, was only concerned for me. That I'll never meet another woman (he knows I won't make the effort) will shop alone, and one day die that way, too.

But, based on the evidence, I'd say my "problem" is I've already met waaay too many women.

Enough to know dying a hermit, sometimes, can be a pretty damn inviting proposition,...