A long time ago—though looking back now, it wasn’t that long—I was out to dinner with some friends. They asked why I wasn’t looking for a partner. I’d already lost weight, so was I still hung up on that fujoshi who’d toyed with me, or was my orientation just broken? At first I refused to answer. But refusing to answer only makes things worse. Being mistaken for a simp drooling over some crazy bitch, or for a pathetic freak who turned gay because he got dumped—either way, it’s bad news. So I thought about it and gave a careful reply. “Because, uh, I don’t really know how to deal with women. They’re hard to figure out. It’s stressful. And kind of a hassle.” My friend blinked, then burst out laughing.