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By the end of the night, I had met about 16 different men, and I can tell you that the look of disappointment that flashed on their faces upon seeing me never got old.I tried my best to be my most "top" self (like trying to polish a turd, as they say).The event, which was held in the confines of a cavernous bar downtown, had a surprisingly large turnout. " I looked at my name tag, which was peeling off already, as if it knew that the "T" written on it was all some horrible lie. That, and never buy knives from that dude from high school.I happened to be one of the first guys to register with the organizer, and I took the opportunity to grab a beer and watch the men herd into line to register like cattle to the slaughter. " the organizer asked one man, who responded with a nervous chuckle. To be blunt, most of the men on either side (including me) were average-looking -- sometimes aggressively so.

My voice was so hoarse that it was one broken leg away from a glue factory, and my personality had a heavy case of whiskey d**k.(I'd like to go on record and say those men are horrible, and the human equivalent of a parfait.) The men here were normal dudes: mostly over 30, and mostly in custody of faces I almost instantly forgot. Have you ever been at a party and realized, with a cold sweat and a shiver of dread, that you were the smartest one in the room?It's happened to me once before; I realized that if I was the smartest person in the room, then we were all screwed.I tried to make my chest seem bigger, deepened my voice and swigged my sh***y beer like I was in a square state.Alas, despite my greatest efforts, I was not a very convincing top.

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