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| blogs.menshealth.com |
As I get older, I’ve come to come to accept many things
about myself.
For
example, as much as I enjoy them, I’ll never be very good at team sports. I’m
tall, spindly and highly uncoordinated. Hardly the recipe you need to be the
Michael Jordan of the beer league.
Another
fact of my life? I’m a mildly-powerful douchebag magnet, or “douche-magnet” in
technical terms.
Not too
powerful. I feel like most of the people I’ve drawn into my inner circle are
grade-A individuals. But just powerful enough that douchebags seem to always be
floating around the periphery of my existence.
I’m not
sure what it is that brings them in, maybe it’s my boyish face and inability to
grow a full beard.
One of
the places where this is most evident: When I’m out wandering the streets.
I get
more catcalls from passing cars or other walkers on average than a well-endowed
blonde lady jogging through a city full of construction sites.
