Funnily enough, I need to contradict my previous entry on one point, I actually read and finished four books over the course of the month of July. Only the very sharp will have noticed that for about 24 hours I was reading a fantastic novel called The Average American Male, the first by Chad Kultgen. Being only a couple of hundred pages in length, and largely conversational, it was a very quick read.
It set an interesting new precedent, however, when Harper Collins hit a bit of a snag when the time came to market and promote the novel. In the end, someone (who must’ve gotten a giant promotion himself) came up with the idea of using Youtube to circulate viral videos that embody the basic principle of the book. Spending $2,500 on three minute-or-less-in-length videos, the publishers hit a goldmine of publicity and unloaded copies of the book faster than they could print them.
“The unnamed narrator of Average American Male is in his late twenties, has an unimportant job, plays video games, and hangs out with his friends and his girlfriend,” reads the websites’ description. “But that’s not all. He unabashedly reveals every thought that goes through his head, from his sexual fantasies involving his annoying girlfriend and other women he encounters, his masturbation sessions while watching porn, and his disgust with his annoying girlfriend and a majority of the people he comes across.”
Casey has a fat ass. She’s a pretty cute brunette with a completely normal upper body, just with a big fat ass attached. She knows it’s fat and got a membership to my gym so she could go with me and “get cute tight buns.” She even toyed with the idea of getting a personal trainer and she bought an exercise book called The Daily Butt Regimen.
So I’m sitting on the calf machine ready to put my head through the fucking mirror. Casey’s across the gym, smiling at me, doing curls. For the past six months, since she started her ass-slimming campaign, all she’s done is fucking curls and bench presses—and her ass shows it.
I’ve tried to get her to do squats with me, leg presses, quad extensions, hamstring machine, any fucking thing having even the most remote influence on the movement of muscles in her lower body, and she always says, “I think I’ll just do some curls.”
I finish my set and move to another part of the gym so I can’t see her.
I think there’s something in this book that every male can relate to, even if it isn’t immediately apparent. For me, I think the most resounding similarities (besides the relationship tango the narrator struggles with throughout much of the book) have to do with the realisations that life is as life will be; there really isn’t any waiting for something right or something better to come along, because things about life won’t necessary get any more right or better than they are.
For instance, I was walking through a quiet neighbourhood a week or so ago after work, and actually kind of admiring little houses along the way, when it hit me: I’m going to spend the rest of my life here in London. I have no intention to move elsewhere, no goal to end up anywhere beyond here. So, I’m going to one day buy one of these adorable houses, and live here.
I’m likely not going to move back to Toronto, or get that amazing job that I have longed long to have. I’ll likely never get a chance to play guitar any more than my Dad does, at home for recreation. I knew these things to be true the moment they occured to me; I don’t dream like I used to. Thusly, my life is likely as good and complete as it’s ever going to get.
But back on track… is this book right for you? That depends. If you’re a guy, there’s likely very little in this book that will surprise you, excepting the knowledge that some dudes have it real bad. If you’re a woman, particularly a woman who may have wondered what goes through the minds of men, then I think this may be an enlightening read for you. Not to say, though, that you’re going to like what you read…