Am I A Man?

I have always said that I "I'm not a real girl" in the context of getting ready to leave the house -- I don't spend hours primping in front of the mirror, or worrying about what I'm going to wear. Give me 15 minutes, and I'm out the door. Lately, I find that my grooming standards are slipping, too - a little stubble here and there, and severely chipped pedicure, won't prevent me from wearing skirts and flip flops -- I think, much like a man. Well - tonight I drove around Spartanburg for 35 minutes, looking for the sheriff's department to drop off subpoenas, and did not ask for directions. I had the general information that it was near the courthouse, that I can easily get to, but foolishly I felt that I could find it on my own. By osmosis? A little birdie would fly over the car and guide me? It's crazy.... Anyway, I drove in the general vicinity where I thought the sheriff's department was, and absolutely could not find it. I was even talking to a friend on the phone, who asked me if I wanted her to get directions for me. She asked me three times. "No -- that's okay. I'll find it." I finally stopped to get directions when my frustration level was about to overflow - 35 minutes later. It was nowhere near where I thought it was. Am I really a man?