Two old friends were sitting in a quiet café, talking about marriage, life and all the sacrifices men claimed they had made over the years.

One of them sighed dramatically and stirred his coffee as though it had personally disappointed him.

“Ever since we got married, my wife has tried to change me.

She got me to stop drinking, smoking and running around until all hours of the night.

She taught me how to dress well, enjoy the fine arts, gourmet cooking, classical music, even how to invest in the stock market.”

His friend stared at him in amazement.

He remembered the man from years ago—a fellow who believed formal clothing meant wearing socks with sandals and considered dinner sophisticated if it came with a paper napkin.

Now he wore tailored jackets, discussed opera during lunch and could identify six different types of cheese without looking at the label.

“That’s quite a transformation,” his friend said.

The man nodded proudly.

“She even taught me which wine goes with fish, how to behave at charity dinners and why shouting at the television does not actually improve the stock market.”

His friend leaned back and studied him carefully.

“Sounds like you may be bitter because she changed you so drastically,” remarked his friend.

The man looked genuinely surprised.

“I’m not bitter.

Now that I’m so improved, she just isn’t good enough for me.