Thursday, June 02, 2005
Dear Fellow Drive-Thru Banker Guy,
Listen, I saw you over at the UW-Credit Union the other day. I was in the left lane, making a deposit. You were in the right lane, waiting on a withdrawal. And, yes, I saw the college chick in her VW with all the bumper stickers drive up in front of us.
She parked, got out, grabbed her purse, and walked to the front door. And, man -- you watched her the whole time. You didn't even blink. Now, let's be clear: I agree, she was very good-looking. Maybe even hot.
Side note: I had a college roommate once who could delineate between "good-looking" and "hot", and we would often argue whether a girl was OK, pretty, good-looking, hot, or a "10". I'll give you "good-looking" on this girl.
But, man, you are so out of your league, gawking at her. First of all, you're overmatched on the whole "relationship looks" scale. A relationship is like a teeter-totter. One person can't be grossly better- or worse-looking than her partner; otherwise, the teeter-totter gets stuck. Jealousy rears. Self-consciousness rules the day. My advice to you is: a.) Get a nice haircut. b.) Comb your hair in the morning. c.) Something other than the Supertramp T-shirt would be an improvement. d.) Wash with soap. Scrub hard. Clean those pores.
But that's not all you have to worry about. She was a little intimidating, wasn't she? George Costanza's right: the better-looking the woman, the faster she walks. And this chick was positively trotting. Aside from that, she knew you were looking. Hell, she knew I got a glance in. And I was at least furtive about it! You had your head out the window! She had the self-satisfied look you can never allow a woman to have, otherwise she will rule your world (see my life as proof of this).
But beyond her confidence, there was something else that intimidated you, wasn't there? That bumper sticker -- the one that stated: "We lied. Size matters." -- that spooked you, didn't it? "How much size matters?" you thought to yourself. I know. It's upsetting, in your shoes -- the not knowing.
But beyond all this, man, you've just got to stop gawking at women. You remind me of some of my friends, who all spend way too much time looking at porn. Here's the problem with porn: it's not real. There are not women like this. Not really. And if there were women like this, hypothetically, they would not be interested in you. Yet porn creates the unreal expectation that beautiful -- and extraordinarily easy -- women are everywhere. What this does is . . . well, what it's done to several of my friends: it's given them these ultra-high standards for women. Anything less than a "10" is suddenly trash. Is it a coincidence that none of them have been laid in . . . many years? Man, I will say it and I will say it again: lose the porn. It is doing nothing but bringing you down. Because whenever a decent-looking woman does come around, all you can do is drool at her from your car door while you wait for your money order.
Even the bank clerk saw you. As a fellow guy . . . I was ashamed. Anyway, in short: haircut, wash, new shirt, lose the porn, stop staring. And best of luck.
She parked, got out, grabbed her purse, and walked to the front door. And, man -- you watched her the whole time. You didn't even blink. Now, let's be clear: I agree, she was very good-looking. Maybe even hot.
Side note: I had a college roommate once who could delineate between "good-looking" and "hot", and we would often argue whether a girl was OK, pretty, good-looking, hot, or a "10". I'll give you "good-looking" on this girl.
But, man, you are so out of your league, gawking at her. First of all, you're overmatched on the whole "relationship looks" scale. A relationship is like a teeter-totter. One person can't be grossly better- or worse-looking than her partner; otherwise, the teeter-totter gets stuck. Jealousy rears. Self-consciousness rules the day. My advice to you is: a.) Get a nice haircut. b.) Comb your hair in the morning. c.) Something other than the Supertramp T-shirt would be an improvement. d.) Wash with soap. Scrub hard. Clean those pores.
But that's not all you have to worry about. She was a little intimidating, wasn't she? George Costanza's right: the better-looking the woman, the faster she walks. And this chick was positively trotting. Aside from that, she knew you were looking. Hell, she knew I got a glance in. And I was at least furtive about it! You had your head out the window! She had the self-satisfied look you can never allow a woman to have, otherwise she will rule your world (see my life as proof of this).
But beyond her confidence, there was something else that intimidated you, wasn't there? That bumper sticker -- the one that stated: "We lied. Size matters." -- that spooked you, didn't it? "How much size matters?" you thought to yourself. I know. It's upsetting, in your shoes -- the not knowing.
But beyond all this, man, you've just got to stop gawking at women. You remind me of some of my friends, who all spend way too much time looking at porn. Here's the problem with porn: it's not real. There are not women like this. Not really. And if there were women like this, hypothetically, they would not be interested in you. Yet porn creates the unreal expectation that beautiful -- and extraordinarily easy -- women are everywhere. What this does is . . . well, what it's done to several of my friends: it's given them these ultra-high standards for women. Anything less than a "10" is suddenly trash. Is it a coincidence that none of them have been laid in . . . many years? Man, I will say it and I will say it again: lose the porn. It is doing nothing but bringing you down. Because whenever a decent-looking woman does come around, all you can do is drool at her from your car door while you wait for your money order.
Even the bank clerk saw you. As a fellow guy . . . I was ashamed. Anyway, in short: haircut, wash, new shirt, lose the porn, stop staring. And best of luck.
