I’m sure those shorts felt good on a hot August night, as did the airing you gave your entire package while seated at the bookstore cafe. But for my ladylike friends, I’d have said, “Hey, buddy, put the mouse back in the house.” And my voice “carries.”

You always corrected my order, usually by interrupting and talking over me. “Do you mean a croissant?” Finally one morning, I said, loudly, “No, I mean ‘Croissan’wich,’ just like I said — like it’s written on your menu.” I’m glad I’m dieting and not coming by anymore.

You called often for donations during a year when I’ve been pretty sick. You pressed for specifics that are none of your business. Last time, you were so rude I said to remove me from your call list permanently. Red Cross takes my O-negative without the harassment.