An Average Joe May Be Above Average
“Check out how much power this bad boy has.” I think that’s what the truck salesman was screaming over the obnoxious babbling engine but it may have been distorted. When the roar took short break I queried, “Do you have anything a little less phallic and a bit more practical?” I was looking to buy a small truck, not make a statement of overcompensation but this salesman was bent on selling this huge truck with huge wheel and a huge roar that screamed ’don’t look at my small bulge but check out this monster extension of my inadequacy.”
OK really, what’s up with that? Are women in general turned on by loud greasy engines? I mean I’m not a ten inch stud or the owner of a powerful crank case of grinding gears but I have sufficient equipment and what’s more important I know how to use that equipment to get the most out of it. I think back on how idiotic our high school days were, and how we believed we could compensate for our awkwardness of dating by playing a guitar, or driving a muscle car, or something else that formulated a false sense of manhood. But I couldn’t carry a note, couldn’t play an instrument, was uninterested in sports, and lacked self confidence. But I did have a job in a restaurant so at least I had some money, plus I was learning to cook.
My ever helpful Mom suggested I take Home Economics where I could hone my culinary attributes. But back then a class in Home Ec only assured a male of a daily ass kicking and constant public humiliation. I gave it two seconds of thought after Mom assured me I would be in a class full of females. But I had done that by taking typing last year without achieving any carnally enhancing benefits. I made many suggestions to the young maidens but the girls were only interested in my carriage release or ribbon spool, not my nimble typing technique. I didn’t become adept at typing or even get a phone number from that class. Although I admit it was my favorite class and being one of only three guys it was uplifting to garner the attention I so craved.
So I didn’t go to Home Ec, but I did continue to learn to cook at the restaurant while the chicks were all dating the guys in rock bands, the guys with GTO’s, or the football team (No, not the whole team pervert). So those artificially enhanced materialistic dudes all fought over the plastic popular chicks while us average Joes dated the average Jill’s, which in the long run was better anyway.
The funny thing about the football stars, muscle heads, hot car owners, and wannabe rock stars is when they got into the thirty something’s that’s all they really had. I on the other hand could cook and when I reached my thirties that was what the ladies found sexy. Keep your monster truck dude, I am serving sautéed Chilean Sea Bass with a Beaujolais saffron sauce, asparagus macadamia, and Pomes Anna with a perfectly chilled Gewürztraminer wine and the ladies who enjoyed that were intelligent, sophisticated, and beautiful with very little interest in the size of my pick up or biceps. So who’s chuckling now?
I had a small studio apartment in New York City near Madison Square Garden and one of the intricacies of my crib, I mean aside from having my bed right there in my kitchen/dining room, was a nice view for people watching. On one particular evening as I was entertaining, my date and I watched as people who had parked their car near by headed out to The Garden to attend a Monster Truck Rally. We watched and it took all my self control not to point at some overweight, sloppy looking thirty something’s on a mission to get inside, and I can’t be 100% sure but I think one dude with a bad haircut and beer belly that would make Buddha cringe was the star quarterback of my high school. Walking alongside him no longer cheering, was his high school sweetheart. I couldn’t help thinking how much they deserved each other both now and back in the day.
I asked the salesman to shut off the engine so he could hear me good when I said no thanks. I decided I didn’t even want the stupid truck at all because it just isn’t me, and being myself was better revenge than I could possibly have planned even if I had wanted to. Now every time I see someone in a pick up with wheels better off on a tractor with spikes on the rims, or a ridiculously oversize Hummer style vehicle, or any other car designed to take attention away from the owners “short comings” and place the focus on their ride I smile and give them the thumbs up, because they need more reassuring than an average Joe like me.
An Average Joe May Be Above Average