Bathroom Monologue: Worst of Men

You say you would count me amongst the best of men and I tell you I would not. I am far from the most handsome or the smartest. Not the quickest thinking, not the wisest, and I certainly do not know the most about anything. I am of mediocre height and far from the best weight, putting me at distinctly sub-best build. If there is a best of men, then I am amongst the worst looking in a bathing suit, and must rank somewhere in the bottom ten of aptitudes for tanning. When everyone is heading in the same direction on the same sidewalk, I fall behind. I cannot lift the most weight and despite considerable exposure to pain, I am not the best at handling it. I am praised as a good listener yet spend the bulk of my time thinking about other things I’d rather be doing than listen to her cry about her boyfriend. I am a terrible boyfriend. I get bored, sex takes too long and the emotional games played at dinner should not be more complicated than chess. I am not the best at chess. I cannot think of a single thing at which I excel other than seeing that I am a pretty sub-best person.