SEEKING STOOPID

I have this thing for brilliant men. I’m talkin’ off-the-charts intelligence. I’ve had more than one close friend pinpoint the problem and suggest that this is something I seriously need to address. Truth be told, I am always banging my head against brilliant men.

My friend Sam explained that the flipside of brilliance is often an inability to deal down here in the real world – a land where MENSA men rarely loiter.

Amy, another close friend recently identified this pattern and suggested that I seek out a “tad above average.” I’ve never much liked the name “Tad”, nor anyone close to average. But I’m working on it. I’ve got my feelers out for an open heart with a blank stare and a complete inability to throw back a witty disarmament ¬– for he may hold my happiness along with several expired lottery tickets.

Just to be clear, it’s not like I’m a rocket scientist. Always a strong B student, I often have a hard time getting through complicated books, speak no foreign languages, yet, there remains this burning desire to couple with genius. Is it validation I seek? A replacement for my Phi Beta Kappa daddy? Or is it my basic instinct to be dominated: held down, bound, and ultimately silenced by really really smart guys?

Why does pillow talk need to be so engrossing? So fueled with high level concept, swirling graphic imagery, words that I need to look up? Do I really need a 12 inch brain.
Wouldn’t a smaller organ suffice? Isn’t it possible to fill my confines to capacity with less turgid brain swell? Is there a Dr. in the house? Better yet, a plumber, or a clerk? But even then, I can spot the one self-loathing genius on the construction site from 10 blocks away. How about the seemingly simple well built Cuban Superintendent? We finally took adjoining stools at our local bar one evening. Turns out I found the only high level, Buddhist Super who read 5 books a week, speaks 6 languages, and can discuss philosophy, religion, extraordinary sexual behavior, gourmet food, and politics all night and still get up at 5AM to fix the boiler and take out an entire building’s trash. Why is average so challenging?

But I ain’t giving up so quickly; I’m setting my sites on “stupid”. I'm taking applications and looking for the man that can't quite figure how to fill his out. But what’s my game plan? Should I frequent NASCAR chat rooms and keep a keen eye out for consistent mistakes in grammar and spelling? Wear shamefully revealing tops and confine myself to monosyllabic utterances? Is there a storehouse of sexy simpletons; an organization called MENDUH that has them on file? ‘Cause when it comes to dumb guys, I’m exceptionally clueless.