Your size...

So Moe dropped by last night. Lucky fucking me. (For those not paying attention, that was sarcasm.) He came in, and dropped his happy ass on my couch like he's been doing it for years. Then tells me he wants to know if I could make him something for dinner cause he hasn't had time to eat yet. As I tell him no, he wants to know if I've eaten. Blah blah blah. Apparently this country boy believes his shit doesn't stink, his parents are gods, living on a farm is the only way to live, pork livers are a delicacy and that because he has military experience, he is going to be better than anyone else at their job. And, then, just because he hadn't pissed me off enough, said he had a cousin who loved to eat, "well, I guess you could say she's about your size," as if I'm the general shape of a Volkswagon. I'm so flipping irritated for so many reasons. First, because he still believed I should be sleeping with him, although he is a scrawny thing and someone my size might do serious damage. Secondly because I let this pipsqueak get on my nerves. No, I'm not fashion model thin, but holy hell, I'm not a beached whale either. I can't remember the last time I was so ticked off at any one person.
I'm giving up on this making friends thing. I will live by myself, eating what the fuck I want, when I want, exercising if I feel the need to and I will just forgo dealing with others. People suck. Is it too late in my lifetime to become a hermit and live in a shack in the woods?