Years ago, during a very bad time in my life, I went to lunch with a male friend and poured my heart out to him. This was bad stuff, serious stuff, and I really needed my friend’s ear.

At the end of our lunch, an older man walked over and passed a note to my friend: It said: “The average woman speaks three words for every word a man utters during that day.” Or something to that effect. He then scurried away, perhaps fearing what my next three words might be. (First one “go,” last one, “yourself.”)

A week late, but I feel so vindicated.