I've had female doctors and discussed some pretty sensitive stuff with them, if memory serves.

So it's not that I cannot confide in a woman about bodily matters.

This is, after all, 2017. Give me some credit.

But when I headed into my bike shop on South Grand the other afternoon, I walked briskly past the smiling twentysomething woman who greeted me up at the front of the store. I sought a familiar face. A familiar male face.

I found it.

"Joe! There you are. Hey, help me out with something, willya?"

You see, I needed a new bicycle seat. And characterizing my problem with the old seat would be, well, rather personal.

But without any hesitation I told Joe what I needed and he found me a seat that might work.(Turns out, it won't. But that's another story.)

While he was ringing up my purchase, I stuck with the manly theme and offered Joe, who is in his 20s and been married a fairly short time, some unsolicited marital advice. I've done that before and I think it amuses him.

I try not to sound like one of those awful women-bashing comedians from the "Ed Sullivan" era. I'd say "Voice of experience" is closer to what I'm going for in these brief seminars on love and the virtue of prompt apologies.

I'd tell you what my specific advice was, but I know at least a few women look at this blog now and then. And some things, well, some things are for guys only.

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