Why do fat women always think they have a chance with me?

I was having the avocado salad at the outside tables at Greg's Uptown Diner this afternoon, and casually ticking off typos on their menu (I always do this at restaurants, for the edification of the management), when an unadvisably large woman approached me and asked if I had the time.

I immediately saw this for the disingenuous ruse that it was. Her eager smile said it all. She did not care what time it was; she was simply doing what every other oversized femme has always done when I am around: feeling me out for romance.

Well, I have had damned enough of it. What makes women think I am the nice, wimpy guy whose standards are so low that he thinks he only has a chance with non-standard specimens? The nerve of those fatsoes! I am absolutely outraged. I would get contact lenses and dress in the ignorant fashions of the day, but I do not feel that *I* should be the one having to change myself!

Anyhow, I told her it was time to get a watch, and she got the picture pretty quick.