Last week I hit a wall.

I know, it's pretty early for that, considering we’re less than three weeks into the new year. But I hit it anyway.

I stood at the podium at center stage and surveyed the auditorium.

The balcony was empty, as were most of the first floor seats, save for my 20 or so eighth grade classmates.

“O.Henry,” I began. “Who was he?”

Dear women of the world,

I want you to know that I see you.

You sit across from me in the waiting room, or next to me in a restaurant, and tell me you could never do “that.”